Were It Not for the Stars
by Blistry
Summary: Bruce has only just acclimated to living in Stark Tower when, suddenly, fate dumps an entirely new set of problems in his lap. First, he is assigned a 'handler'- which is less than pleasing. Then, a ghastly foe returns from a time he wishes he could forget. Finally, things get much worse when a malevolent entity from universes unknown threatens all of mankind. (BruceXOFC)
1. Chapter 1

**This is an old story that I've sort of retro fit with better writing and stuff. It is unfinished but I am newly invigorated by discovering it again and intend to finish it. It is not Avengers 2 compliant; it is caught up to TWS. I haven't seen Thor 2, sadly. I have spoiled some parts of it for myself accidentally, so I'll use what I know there.**

 **First, I challenged myself when I created this OC by picking a random page from the Superpower wiki. My first result was essentially induced tranquility. I thought, for a Bruce Banner fic, that was a little too easy so I spun again for something a little more unique.**

 **I would highly recommend this fun little quirk for crafting Avengers OC's, it has been challenging and rewarding to write this.** **I would also like to add that I don't have a beta reader and I am too shy to go out and search for one. Mistakes will be made! Forgive me!**

 **Onward!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Marvel's.**

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Chapter One - He Follows Generous Friends

Bruce Banner could not believe that this was his new normal. The third intolerably loud explosion in the last half hour disturbed his sleek work desk sending pens and pencils to the floor all a-clatter. About ninety-eight percent of him was sure that he did not want to see what was going on in the room next to his. He had to keep reminding himself, whatever it was, it definitely didn't need investigating. Then there was that pesky three percent which had him convinced that this time – _this time, for sure_ – Tony had certainly blown himself to pieces.

He massaged the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. Living alone in India was easier for him, in a way. Adjusting to life alongside another person was difficult on it's own, adjusting to life alongside Tony Stark was a whole different animal. Sometimes Bruce took mental inventory of the wits he had lost that day as he lay in his bed before dozing off. Yet, there was something about Tony that made him endearing. Sort of like termites; once they get into the frame, they're _impossible_ to shake lose.

"Dr. Banner?" Bruce shook himself loose of his thoughts as JARVIS's pleasant voice echoed throughout the lab.

"Yes, JARVIS?" Bruce replied as he lifted his coffee to his lips. _Ugh. Cold._

"I hate to disturb you, sir, but you see, Mr. Stark has need of your immediate assistance." Judging by the tone of the computer butler, it wasn't serious enough to warrant a 911 call.

"What's he done, JARVIS?"

"Perhaps you had better see for yourself, sir."

Bruce raised his eyebrows, inhaling and exhaling a world weary sigh. He set his coffee cup down, shoved one hand in his pocket and passed the other over his face. With a resolute nod to himself, he started towards the door leading out of his work space.

He strolled into what Tony referred to as his 'rec room' wherein he tested out all of the 'projects' he developed out of boredom. There were several new scorch marks all over the walls and ceiling. A few of the metal wall panels hung and swung precariously from their places. Tony himself was pinned against a wall by a rather peculiar looking piece of machinery. The mad scientist looked – at most – inconvenienced and not at all concerned with the few flicking wires spitting sparks swinging about the contraption. Tony locked eyes with Bruce, clearly anticipating whatever clever comment Bruce was about to make. Somewhere behind the both of them a wall panel clattered noisily to the floor.

"Is that new? It looks good on you, Tony." Bruce said quirking his mouth into a sardonic smirk.

"Oh – this old thing?" Tony shot back. "I was planning on wearing it to the spring cotillion, you don't find it a little too...I don't know. Flashy?" He used his one free arm to gesticulate dramatically.

"Actually, I thought it made you look like more of a _wall_ flower." Bruce replied with emphasis on the 'wall'. His eyes shone brightly as he was very aware of his verbal victory.

"No. I can not- No puns. Ever. That is against the rules." Tony pointed forcefully towards the wall to his left. "There is- _was_ a sign there detailing this. Did you not read- Doesn't matter. You already did it. It's done. I thought you were better than that." Tony sulked. An odd silence filled the room. Bruce idly rubbed his chin and Tony still pouted.

"Are you gonna-"

"Yeah, let me help you with that." Bruce rushed over to his fallen comrade.

"Power it down first." Tony nodded his head to where the machine was plugged into the wall mounted power array. Bruce traced the proper cord and pulled. It came out with little effort and the subtle hum of electricity came silent. Bruce rushed over and began to push the giant metal canister looking machine off of Tony Stark. Tony used his good arm to push out while Bruce rolled it sideways. After a moment or two of strain the big silver beast rolled off of Tony and clanged onto the floor beside him. With a moan of relief Tony stood to stretch and dust himself off.

"Thanks, pal."

"No problem." Bruce replied. Tony sauntered over to a surprisingly intact mini fridge to grab a cold beverage. "What exactly happened?" Bruce finally asked.

"Well, I was testing my Bolt Cannon, which, funny enough, started out as an advanced bug zapper. You know how I am though, sometimes concepts run away from me." Tony pondered as he cracked open a beer. "Needless to say, there is a _bit_ of a recoil issue."

"A bit." Replied Bruce skeptically.

"Anyway, I was just tinkering. I actually had something I wanted to show you." Tony declared. He strolled over to his desk and with a flourish of his hand a multitude of Stark Tech holographic work screens appeared as if by magic. "I've been doing my weekly snoop through Fury's personal correspondence." He gave a side eyed look at Bruce. "You know how I like to keep him honest."

"Go on."

"Don't spoil the drama, Bruce. It's a part of my process." Tony reprimanded. "As I was saying," Tony's hands deftly navigated through Fury's complexly woven security network until at last he found what he sought, "X marks the spot." He marveled, his eyes alight with mischief. He beckoned for his friend to look closer. "What do you make of 'Project Lightfoot', Dr. Banner?"

And with that declaration a flurry of images, case files, and recordings revealed themselves in a multitude.

"Who is she?" Bruce queried, examining the screen close enough to illuminate his features with a ghostly blue. Tony sidled up beside him.

"The only name that pops up in this file is Lightfoot. It makes sense when you see what she does, other than that, I'm clueless." Tony paused to scratch his intricately sculpted facial hair. "But I do have a sneaking suspicion that we should be expecting an addition to the family."


	2. Chapter 2

**Geez Louise! Fanfiction sure does make me feel like a goof. Here I thought I was mowing down tons of story when, in reality, I barely wrote much at all per chapter. At least, that's what it looks like! I guess that's what I get for writing in double space. Does anyone else thing the the font is a little small? ;-; No? Just me? Eehhhehehe.**

 **Action certainly isn't my strong suit but I am not one to back down from a challenge. Reviews are always appreciated. Enjoy c: See you at the next update!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Marvel's.**

* * *

Chapter Two - Her Face Red with the Dust of Battle

Clint Barton dipped into his familiar kneel and swiftly scanned his surroundings, as was his apparent ritual. He searched the cloudless sky. There was no moon but the stars pricked the sky in the thousands. The rocky desert landscape was dark, for the most part, excepting a small cluster of shimmering lights below him. There Hawkeye saw the entrance to the secret Hydra compound that he had finally discovered stashed away in Libya– with the help of Natasha Romanov, of course – after three months. It was nestled at the bottom of a ravine which gave him the perfect vantage point. With a satisfied nod he loosely nocked an arrow.

"Kid, you're on. This one'll be a cinch just keep your eyes up." He murmured into his headset.

"You're saying that like it's my first time infiltrating a heavily guarded secret base." The reply crackled through his earpiece.

"No, what I'm saying is that now that Nat has done all the legwork you can go in and put a nice pretty bow on it." He retorted in a playful fashion.

"Oh my, Clinton! _Legwork_! Are you implying something about the Black Widow's...approach to espionage?" Came the sassy response.

"No, Amira, and if you're very lucky I won't tell her you said that." He huffed. "And _do not_ call me Clinton." Amira's undignified snickers broadcast right into Clint's ear. He shook his head with a throaty laugh.

The woman herself was snug inside of a rock alcove very near the entrance of the compound. Her unpredictable coffee colored curls were subdued into a ponytail on her crown. Though the sun had set there was still a sticky heat permeating the desert and it made her olive tone skin glow with perspiration. Though she appeared innocuous with her small structure her gaze was calculating. When she was a girl she lamented her looks. She thought her slightly wide set eyes and round face made her look positively extra terrestrial (the other children on the schoolyard saw fit to remind her of this fact every so often) but as she grew into her own, she soon learned that her petulant look made people underestimate her, which – in her line of work – was very valuable, indeed.

"It's nearly midnight. If our intel is correct then the guard should be changing soon, that's where you make your move." She looked to the door as Clint's voice came across the airwaves.

"Roger that." And with that she rose to stand. Short though she was, there were few stealthier than Amira Mizrahi and her light frame enabled her to slip into tight spaces. She padded cautiously on the loose earth towards the great steel set of double doors that were closely watched by Hydra goons. The clock struck twelve and right on schedule two fresh henchmen exited the doors. The new guards exchanged some playful quips and jibes with one another before swapping for the night. Amira picked up her pace slightly as the relieved soldiers made their way through the doors. Clint held his breath.

She carefully fell in step behind the henchmen extracting his key card to gain entrance. Neither newly posted guard so much as blinked at her apparent presence. It was as if she were a ghost. Clint drew the arrow and trained his sights on the armed Hydra agents surrounding his partner, a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

"Wait." One of the newly posted guards to her right breathlessly began. He held up the gloved hand that wasn't holding his automatic rifle. His eyes narrowed skeptically. Every muscle in Amira's body was a coiled spring; she embodied a marble pole-cat in stance and tenacity. She rapidly calculated every move she would have to make if things got sticky, there were very few scenarios – by her estimation – in which she escaped without a bullet wound. Meanwhile Clint readied himself to loose his arrow. Suddenly, the guard discharged a thunderous sneeze and in the beam of the spotlights she could make out the vaporized motes of spit spinning in the air. Every man had turned with wide eyes to look at their cohort.

"Agh, there it is. That _is_ better. I just can not deal with the pollen this season, it's murder." The culprit complained.

"Just cover your mouth next time, you animal!" His partner sniped. "Honestly."

The retreating guards exchanged an eye roll. Amira let her tense body unwind for a moment, she couldn't spare the noise of sighing with relief. Clint lowered his bow and only then did he realize how forcefully he had been gritting his teeth. The key card reader chirped happily and Amira could hear several locks disengaging one after the other. She placed a searching hand on the satchel around her waist and said a silent prayer. The door creaked open and she slipped inside as close to the two unaware henchmen as a coupled train car. The door swung shut behind them and every lock clicked back into place. Clint set his bow down and opened a hard shell briefcase that sat next to him. The floor plan of the facility flickered before his eyes on the portable computer secreted inside.

Amira continued to follow the weary men through two more sets of doors until she found herself in a large underground warehouse. Littered here and there were various sealed wooden crates and mammoth sized mechanical marvels on dollies. Fluorescent lights dotted the ceiling which was dizzying in it's height. Hydra agents were walking along the lofty catwalks lining the walls past imposing Hydra banners and researchers flitted below them from place to place jotting down scribbles on their charts and keeping themselves very busy with their nefarious plans. She slowly traversed across the room dodging the mad scientists bumbling to and fro. None of them seemed to register her presence.

"Clint, I think I found where Indiana Jones hid the Arc of the Covenant!" Sh e whispered into her earpiece.

"You just entered the main warehouse. Did you remember the _package_?" Clint nagged. Amira rolled her eyes.

"Yes." She hissed as a maintenance worker pulling along a large vacuum nearly rammed into her. "Of course I did." She assured. Her hand snaked down to the satchel around her waist once more, it was heavy with and the numerous explosives softly clinked within.

"Directly ahead of you will be the entrance into the server room. You're gonna go through it but remember your way back." Clint ordered through her earpiece.

"Got it. What's next?" She affirmed as she slipped into the aforementioned room.

"Take a left in the corridor at the exit of the server room. There should be an elevator at the end of it. Take it to the bottom floor." Amira effortlessly shelved each direction into her mind. They would not need to be repeated. "At the end of the long hallway should be the office of one Rolf Holweck. He's the beating heart of Hydra operations in North Africa."

"And if Mr. Holweck is in?" Amira queried.

"Deal with him. The mobile device we sent you with has been pre-programmed with a script that will be able to decrypt his computer and dump all the information found into itself. This is the prime objective, Mizrahi. No mistakes."

"Understood. What's the exit strategy?" The elevator chimed with a _ding_ and the doors slid open and Amira waltzed into the gleaming silver lift that was already occupied by one very confused looking Hydra grunt. As he saw it, the elevator stopped for no reason. When the doors shut he jovially returned to singing along with the muzac which was pretty awkward for Amira who simply crossed her arms and glowered at the clueless young man next to her.

"Why don't you throw them a little surprise party, kid?" Clint suggested. Amira smiled to herself and patted her satchel. It was going to be one hell of a party with the favors she brought.

Thankfully, the tuneful fellow exited the elevator soon after she entered. The rest of the way down was uneventful and at last the doors whooshed open. At the end of a long fluorescent lit hallway Amira saw her objective. The passage was dead silent. Her soft soled shoes could still be heard whispering across the floor. The door to Rolf Holweck's office was slightly ajar which was lucky for her. She could just make out Holweck in the dimly lit office. He was surrounded by loaded bookshelves and lingering cigar smoke.

She pushed the door open just enough to fit herself through as quietly and quickly as possible. He was mostly bald and reminded Amira of tortoise with his pursed lips, slight nose, and half-lidded eyes. Rolf looked up to see no one. He was able to determine that his door had just moved entirely of it's own accord. He stood up and waddled over to investigate but Amira was faster than he was and she wound up a mean jab that struck it's target – Rolf's face – with fierce accuracy. He crumpled to the floor with a satisfying thud. After tenderly squeezing the aching fingers of her right hand she proceeded to shut and lock his door. She wondered, momentarily, if she hit him too hard. He was kind of old. But then she remembered he was a Neo-Nazi and quickly dismissed any and all pity.

"Holweck's taken care of. I am proceeding to retrieve the objective." She informed Clint as she connected the device she fished from her satchel into the computer. The program made short work of his encrypted files and sooner than she was thought possible the task was finished with. She hastily unplugged the phone and packed it into a small pocket in her bag. She reached in and grabbed a handful of the oblong silver cartridges her bag was filled to the brim with.

"I got it. I'm getting the hell out of here." Amira informed Clint. "Is Aaron headed to the extraction point?"

"He said he's 15 minutes out, I hope you can work with that. Their security _will_ pick up on the system decryption so get a move on." Amira pressed one of the silver cartridges onto Holweck's desk and ran a finger over the faint red light on the side of it. With surprising gusto, little prongs sprung out of the contraption and dug into the wood of the desk, adhering it. "Oh, and remember those explosives pack a punch so be mindful where you place them." He warned.

"Neat!" She marveled, inspecting the pincers buried in the desk.

"Did you hear what I said, Mizrahi?"

She did not respond because she was too busy decorating the hallway with her little silver baubles. She stowed one behind the hand railing in the elevator, four or so in the aisles of the server room, more than a dozen in the warehouse, and one primly attached to the guarded outer door. When she exited to the outside world both guards had been slain with precision by Hawkeye. Two arrows pierced them both symmetrically in the heart. As soon as she saw the coast was clear she broke out into a sprint, throwing soft sand in the air behind her heels with every stride.

"I'm headed to the extraction point now, Clint, are you going to meet me?" She anxiously asked between breaths.

"I'm already there, where are you?" Clint incredulously replied.

"I'm close. Just sit tight and inform me the minute Aaron arrives." She scaled the rock wall where it was easiest to free climb in and out of the ravine. The landscape was dark but with caution she began to pick her way up the rocky wall. Loose rocks were falling out left and right and she struggled to find a reliable hand hold at times but she finally reached the top. Rust colored dirt clung to wherever she was damp with sweat, which felt like everywhere. She resumed her sprint to make up for lost time and arrived at the meeting place only a few minutes late.

"Where the hell is Aaron?" She cried. Clint animatedly shrugged with mutual annoyance.

"No idea, but you can't detonate those before he gets here and at this rate, someone is going to figure out something is wrong." As if Hawkeye's words were a magic incantation, the alarm could be heard blaring in the distance just when the last words left his mouth. They both looked, wide-eyed, in the direction of the sound.

"Son of a-." Amira murmured.

"Blow it." Clint locked eyes with Amira. She scoffed in shock. He looked only more determined.

Well, She couldn't _possibly_ defy the orders of a superior.

* * *

 **Now I know that _technically_ Hydra isn't really affiliated with Nazi Germany in the 'present day'. They're more interested in a general world domination thing but I really wanted to maintain their Nazi heritage because what's more comic book-esque than indiscriminately punching Nazis and defeating them for AMERICA. I think it's a nice little homage.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Just a little shorty. I didn't want all of this info in one chapter. I guess it felt weighty to me. Anyway, enjoy.**

 **Also, just as a general announcement, I changed the summary. I wrote it while I was feeling very moody and writing developmental scenes for Bruce and Amira. While the things written in the original summary are all things that are true about this story, they by no means encompass this story. In fact, the last thing I wanted to do when I started this was let the romance eclipse the adventure I have planned. I sort of totally defeated that purpose with the summary. I will paste the original summary on my account page so it can be read there. Thanks!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Marvel's.**

* * *

Chapter Three - And Business is Good

"But-"

"I said blow it!" He bellowed. She scrambled to retrieve the detonator switch. She clamped her finger down on the trigger as soon as she found it. The following percussive blast was muted by the weight of the earth that concealed it. The bad guys just took a serious blow. If they didn't make it out of this situation alive, at least they crippled Hydra before they went out. Cries of panic and chaos erupted from the compound and echoed out into the desert.

"Good call." Amira said.

"You can thank me when we make it out of here alive." She fumbled with and almost dropped the pistol he tossed to her. "That's all I've got. How's your aim?" He barked.

"It'll suffice." She stammered with faux self confidence. "Let's just hope they don't get close enough for me to have to use this." She steeled herself. At this point, she had to assume something bad happened to their pilot. She couldn't think about that now, though. She had to focus. Black figures could be seen coming over the bluff. Hawkeye drew an arrow and Amira checked her clip.

"Hey 'Mira, what're you planning on doing with that gun? You couldn't hit the ground if you fell off a ladder!" A mocking voice crackled over their earpieces and the rhythmic sound of propellers beating the air soon followed. She wanted to scream but at the same time she had never been more happy to hear his voice. Relief almost overwhelmed her.

"Damn it, Aaron, this isn't a joke. What the hell took you so long?" She shrieked. He just chuckled at her fury. He brought his quin jet to a hovering stop beside them so that they could hop into the aircraft. The back ramp had already been lowered for their convenience.

"I had to fly in low to avoid being picked up by radar. It took longer with how many ground patrols they had where I came in from the west." He stated matter-of-factly as she boarded.

"I don't care, Aaron! If you're going to be held up like that, you need to let us know." She punctuated her statement with a noisy smack on his shoulder. He just laughed and put a defensive hand up. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners. He had her same burnt umber eyes and dark brown hair that curled in an unruly fashion. Only, where it made Amira look rather unkempt, it made him look like a rakish charmer. His rugged stubble helped as well, or so he had reportedly been informed by 'the ladies'.

"You're just lucky you're blood, Aaron. Next time, I'm going to- I'm going to-." Amira stammered, her eyes narrowing at her loss for words.

"Going to what? Beat me up? You've been saying that since we were kids and you haven't made good on it yet." He quipped. She just growled and mumbled something about breaking her foot off in his ass. He steered the craft high into the sky as the straggling hydra agents fired on them. Amira jumped as a bullet ricocheted off of the frame of the quin jet with a shrill _ping_.

"Buckle up." Clint advised as Amira took her place beside him. She nodded and acquiesced. Amira then plucked the little mobile device from her satchel and offered it to the Hawkeye who snatched it with a grin on his face. She noticed the Stark Tech logo embossed in back of it."Fury will be very interested to see what Herr Holbeck was hiding."

"And also we didn't die, which was nice." Amira sarcastically drawled. Clint shook his head and smirked. And they both fell into a comfortable silence for awhile. The ride smoothed out and soon they were sailing over empty vast desert.

"Have you given the job offer any thought?" Clint piped up after a time. Amira groaned in response.

"I don't know, Clint. My life is crazy enough as it is." She sighed, her hands twisted in her lap as she spoke. "Besides, I would miss spending quality time with you. You know, blowing stuff up and just creating a general, perpetual calamity." She had hoped saying this would ease her inner tension. Clint released a bark of laughter.

"There'd be plenty of that. Actually, there'd probably be more." Clint mused. Amira hunched over to cradle her round face in her hands.

"I promised Fury I'd discuss it with him when we get back to HQ. I don't think I'll be able to avoid him."

"Why don't you just use your abilities to sneak past him?" Clint inquired.

"I've tried! I swear he's immune to my manipulation. He sees right through it every time." She cried with incredulity.

"So much for being 'Lightfoot'." Clint prodded.

"Ew. Please don't call me that, _Hawkeye."_ She bit back.

"Joke's on you, kid. I love my handle."

"Of course you do, _Clinton_." Amira mumbled. He still heard her and pulled a face as if he'd just swallowed sour milk. "How much longer, Aaron?"

"We're about an hour out. Get comfortable." He replied. Amira inclined in her seat felt the true weight of her exertions. She smelled like a hog and, simultaneously, felt like she had been mauled by one. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss the Avenger's Initiative with Fury. Maybe, if she was lucky, he had been kidnapped by some rogue ex-Spetsnaz hired out by terrorists (or something equally exciting) and will have forgotten the subject entirely by the time they recovered him.

* * *

She had exactly seven minutes to strip down, shower, and change. This was approximately three and a half minutes more than she was usually allotted. A successful mission was always rewarded with a little bit more pampering time and she would relish every sudsy, clean second. She slammed her locker shut and made for the shower room but hurriedly backtracked when she spied the dog eared label on her locker had come slightly unstuck. She pressed down on the edges hoping to put off replacing it. She liked the one that was currently applied there. Whoever assigned and labeled it for her had misspelled her name 'Amira Mizrabi' which amused her.

After setting that in order, she swiped her soap, which was on a rope, and dashed into the communal shower room. The rather unappealing room was a caricature of a gym shower, with it's old mildew ridden tiles and it's very unique smell that she likened to the inside of a wet paper bag. None of that mattered, of course. All she felt was glorious, _hot_ water searing away the grunge from her flesh. She watched with hedonistic glee as the dirty, brown stained water crept down from her legs and swirled into the drain between her feet. Her skin became roseate wherever the scorching water tracked down her body. After soaking for as much extra time as she could she retrieved for her soap and scrubbed her flesh raw.

Amira could only use scentless soap and didn't fuss with the inconvenience of shampoo which did her hair no favors – not that she cared; as long as she could tie it into submission at the end of the day. Her abilities were delicate, in that way. If an unfriendly caught a whiff of something out of place or heard a noise that didn't make sense, she could easily be uncloaked. It was a very brittle house of cards, indeed. She had to explain countless time to her fellow teammates that it wasn't standard run-of-the-mill invisibility. In truth, _she_ never technically vanished, she used her abilities to make people ignorant to the fact hat she had been standing there the entire time. She could alter perception on a basic scale. It had it's advantages over standard invisibility but it also had many drawbacks. She used to have a favorite perfume and fun jingly charm bracelets, all of which she had to slough off. This job came with sacrifice, needless to say.

Another body joining her in the shower shook her loose of her thoughts. Of course, by now, being nude around other women was of no consequence to her, she simply resumed her scouring.

"I take it the mission was a success." A sultry voice echoed across the tiled room. Amira smiled to herself.

"Well, I'm alive, aren't I?" She replied, seemingly talking to her shower knobs. "Your intel was invaluable, Romanoff. As usual, we couldn't have done it without you." Natasha switched on her own water.

Of course, Amira could not help but sneak a glance at the crimson-haired assassin. The first time she ever shamelessly spied Natasha from across the locker room she was kept up all night sullenly comparing her own awkward angles and imperfections to Natasha's impossibly stunning figure. She knew that Natasha didn't need any parlor tricks to get what she wanted. With her fluid sinewy build and her petite waist – it was no wonder that she was able to talk a slightly drunk Hydra lieutenant into giving her an impromptu tour of their top secret underground facilities. Now that Amira was a little older she was proud to have gotten over her initial envy. Mostly. They spoke very few words to one another but had developed a very good working relationship when the Black Widow had offered to help her with her dismal close quarters combat skills, which came as an immense shock and, likewise, an immense honor. Amira suspected she would never best her in a spar but with her help in training she had become many shades deadlier than when Fury brought her on.

"Though," Amira spoke up, "Clint will tell you that things became dodgy for a bit there. It almost came to a fire fight." Her tone was slightly boastful but good-natured.

"Oh God." Natasha laughed in her own dark way. "Someone gave you a gun?" Amira blanched briefly and then scowled.

"I'm not _that_ bad." She stewed. _Why do people keep saying things like that_? She thought petulantly.

"Tell that to Nigelson. He still won't go in the range if you're within a five mile radius." She ribbed while working shampoo through her own hair.

"It was a mistake anyone could have made! I'm not even sure that it was _my_ fault-" Amira explained, as if guiltless.

"Not your fault? Who mistakes a tactical shotgun for a grenade launcher?" The redhead interrupted wryly. Amira could not see her face but could picture the sly smirk painted across her full lips.

"We can all agree that those two things should not be on the same table." She argued while rinsing off the last slick layers of soap off of herself. Suddenly, she was interrupted by the alarm of her wristwatch notifying her that her shower was, in fact, over. She groaned and sagged for a moment and then summoned all of her strength to obey her own schedule. Time management was very important to her, even if she wasn't on the job. She begrudgingly switched the water off and stalked away, her soap, with included rope, in tow.

"See you at debriefing, Mizrahi." Natasha called out over her shoulder. Amira wrapped herself in her towel and murmured an affirmative as she left. The sooner she slogged through this debriefing the sooner she could plant her face firmly in her pillow and sleep.

* * *

"We crippled Hydra today, of that there is no doubt. But make no mistake, they are not gone and they won't be until we have snuffed them out entirely." Fury lectured. It was an impressive speech but it was pretty much lost on the exhausted crew before him. Amira had her head in her hands and had been nodding off the entire time. She had spied Aaron secretly flipping through audio books on his smart phone while sneakily slipping in earbuds before debriefing began. Clint was leaning back in his chair, daydreaming, no doubt. And Natasha was leaning up against the wall watching with a cat-like gaze. Fury could see that his ragtag team was fatigued from a days work but he couldn't stop himself from raising an eyebrow and frowning.

"Are we clear?" He barked. Everyone jerked to attention. Amira almost fell out of her chair. They all mumbled an affirmative after sharing guilty looks among each other. Fury, apparently satisfied, dismissed them. Amira practically leaped out of her seat. She pushed Aaron none too gently out of her way knocking his kippah off and causing him to crash into trash can. She tuned out his yelp of complaint. She was almost home free.

"Not you, Mizrahi." She stopped dead and slowly turned to see the expected glower of her commander. She cursed over her breath and barely tried to hide her petulant disappointment.

"Yes, Fury?" She grumbled. She scowled when she heard Aaron snicker with schadenfreude.

"My office." He commanded and turned to leave. Amira followed pulling an awful face behind him as they made their way to his office.


	4. Chapter 4

**Enjoy! I got pretty bogged down writing this one. It is pretty long. I hope to make this length standard and then I can update only once a week, especially since Summer is over and I have lots of work in my lap. c:**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Marvel's. Aaron and Amira are mine, though. You jealous thing, you.**

* * *

Chapter Four - I Hate This Day

"I just don't see why, Fury. It feels like I only just acclimated to being on this team." Amira popped the top on a water bottle. Everyone was supposed to be able to relax for a little after a debriefing but Fury had a bone to pick with her which meant she was trapped. "I mean, what do I bring to the table, anyway? You've already got Natasha. She does everything I do." She offered.

" _Everything_?" Fury gave her his signature withering look.

"Okay, so she doesn't do _everything_ I do but since when have the Avengers ever used tact? That's my thing, tact." She argued. The stiffness of her muscles made her very aware of how badly she wanted to crash land into her bunk. "I mean, Christ, I don't think they've ever been in an engagement where a skyscraper – or a governmental power – didn't crumble to the ground."

"I wholeheartedly agree, Mizrahi, they do need tact which is exactly why I have pressured you to be apart of it." The volume of his voice rose intensely. "I'm not going to force you but there is no reason you shouldn't pursue this. You should consider yourself very lucky to have this opportunity." She sighed and drew her gaze to the floor.

As if the prestige of this new position would shift her opinion. Why could he not understand that she had no desire to move up in the world of clandestine organizations? She dealt with enough brushes with death as it was. A promotion almost always meant lower survival rate. Hell, just being a receptionist for S.H.I.E.L.D. makes one eligible for a pretty swanky life insurance package. She felt chilled and irritable in the drafty converted storage room in their remote Libyan headquarters. Amira pondered over which of the drab appointments of his makeshift office she could feasibly strangle him with.

"Just tell me why, Fury. I'm not an idiot. Why me?" She demanded; her determination renewed. She met his gaze with crossed arms and a set jaw. With an eye-roll Fury circled his desk to find his seat in front of his computer. His fingers mechanically worked until finally the tapping of keys stopped. She stepped forward and tried to make her posture look certain. Fury clamped a hand down on his monitor and glared at her as if pondering whether or not he should show her it's contents. After a resolute sniff he turned it around so she could see. She stooped over to take in the images plastered before her.

"I know who that is. What does it have to do with me?" She stated with in a matter-of-fact snark. Just as she thought. She didn't have a death wish.

"He needs a handler, Mizrahi. He is an immense asset but as he is now- well his condition is exploitable." He explained. "He targets anything and everything. If we're lucky he fights for us and even follows commands but those times are rare. You have to power to control what he sees." Amira only knit her eyebrows together in confusion. "You can _steer_ him."

"I knew there was more to it than you were letting on." She hissed.

"Yes. Very perceptive." Fury deadpanned. "Are you in or not?" He impatiently asked.

"I can't imagine you have too many awareness manipulators out there clamoring for the position." She bit back. She set her hand under her chin and mused for a moment. She suspected the reason that he didn't tell her of the details of the job was because he thought she wanted the self flattery of being a true Avenger and not just a 'handler'. He had often been wrong about her intentions just as he was now. Truthfully, all she wanted safety. Safety for her and Aaron. Being a mutant wasn't exactly the most popular thing to be these days. With Fury she was gainfully employed and her secret was safe. Being able to keep an eye on Aaron was a nice bonus.

However, perhaps this job did have it's own pros. So far, the only person who was immune to her abilities was Fury. She always suspected he cheated with some sort of eyepatch-embedded radar or something unfair like that. And he specified she would only be a handler. What sort of danger does that job imply? Well, if the Hulk does not feel the effects of her awareness manipulation- _if she couldn't get inside his head_ \- she would probably be called off and return to her former position. If it does work, then what? There is nothing safe about being anywhere near the sidelines of an inter-dimensional alien battle, but she could not forget her ability to make herself essentially invisible. _Essentially._

Some part of her - deep down in the strange corridors of herself that she did not understand - stirred. There was an odd urge within her. She had to go where she could do the most good, she decided fully. Half of her panicked but the other half was so sure.

"I'll do it." She resolved. Fury's eye widened with surprise. He tamped down on his reaction immediately, rebuilding his calm facade.

"Oh. Well, that's good." He stammered, the shock had not yet been filtered out of his voice. "I'll make the-"

"But I have demands!" She finished. Fury's jaded frown was replaced instantly. She had the grace not to laugh.

"Of course you do." He mumbled. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin; his gaze aloof. Amira took that as a prompt to continue.

"Aaron goes where I go, that's non negotiable." She punctuated her requirement with a finger jabbing his desk.

"Don't you think he's old enough to look after himself." Fury chided with a mocking chuckle.

"Non-negotiable, Fury." She growled inching closer to him across his desk. He stood and met her steely glare with an equally imposing frown. He slowly leaned forward, hands braced on the edge of his desk. She felt her vim and vigor bleed out. He cut quite an imposing figure.

"I think you mean 'Sir' Or have you forgotten that I am non-negotiable-y your boss?" He intoned through clenched teeth. Amira remembered her place. She stepped back and stood at ease.

"Sir." She lowered her head slightly in submission. Fury sighed and rubbed his forehead. It had been a long day for everyone.

"There is always a need for a capable pilot, especially for the Avengers." Fury gave in. Amira's head snapped up, her eyebrows did the same and her mouth was comically agape. Fury looked, frankly, exasperated.

"Sir! I-" She began

"You will commit to this project." He commanded rather than asked. She nodded eagerly, her eyes still wide with surprise. As for wherever she ended up, she couldn't care less. She just needed to keep and eye on Aaron. Just as she had promised her mother she would. Fury dropped back into his chair with a huff. Amira, grateful, felt the need to lower her eyes again.

"There is still some cleaning up to do as far as our operations in Libya. I expect that the rest of our operatives can handle it. You can inform Aaron whenever you like but I expect you to be packed and ready to leave tomorrow night." That gave Amira very little time to pack. Luckily, she didn't keep much.

"Sir." She affirmed. Hesitantly, she spared her leader a glance. "If I may-" He swept out an arm as if to say _be my guest, I guess_. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"The current base of operations is located in New York City. I trust you are familiar with Stark Tower?" He explained.

"Tony Stark's New York HQ? _That's_ where they all live?" She shrieked with shock, entirely forgetting to be respectful. Again. " _That's_ where Clint gets to go when he isn't in this dusty mouse hole?" She rambled. Fury was too overworked to interrupt her tirade. He settled for giving her his signature look until she shut her self up, which she did promptly.

"You are dismissed, Mizrahi."

"Thank you, Sir." Amira turned to leave.

"I'm trusting you to take this seriously, Mizrahi. Do not let me down." Fury added as she left. She wryly smirked – her back still turned to Fury – and thought about every last filthy Nazi she had ever buried. Although she only nodded, she vowed to herself that she would do whatever she could to help her ailing world.

* * *

"Just say it, Banner." Tony taunted, his arms outstretched in victorious self-adulation. He was wearing an old worn out Iron Maiden t-shirt but it _clearly_ didn't stop him from acting like he was wearing white tie and tails. He was not quite looking at Bruce, but rather, off at some beautiful imaginary horizon that he, the brilliant visionary, was sharing with the common people. "Say I was right!"

Bruce set down his pen to worry his brow with the thumb of his right hand. The office was completely dark save for the lone spotlight of his lamp shining down on his painstakingly organized desk. He had just been in the middle of writing a very important missive with one of his contacts in New Mexico about retrieving some of his old files. That was, of course, until Tony strutted over to his desk and began making noises from his mouth again. He tended to do that when Bruce was most involved with work.

Bruce, feeling confused and perturbed, simply sat appraising his friend mulling over what to say. He didn't leave his chair and Tony refused to break his stance.

"I'm sorry, Tony, I just have no idea what you're talking about." Bruce closed his eyes and tried not to sound to wearied by his friend. Tony dropped his hands and gawped in mock affront. Bruce simply shrugged.

"About Fury. About Lightfoot. I was right." Tony raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "He's bringing her on. We just got the call. Everything's already been arranged and Cap gave the okay. I was right. I demand affirmation." Tony sullenly exclaimed. Bruce was absolutely bewildered. He hesitantly surveyed the spacious research room he had chosen as his work spot, checking left and then right and then looking back up at Stark. His expression read ' _Why me? Why now?'_

"Tony, I never said you were wrong. I agreed with you, remember? The gravitas of me telling you were right all along is sort of lost when I never-." Bruce gave up and settled for covering his eyes with his hand; he impatiently inhaled. The sound was sharper than he intended.

"Well, I'm sorry I crave reassurance every once in a while, Bruce." Tony threw his arms up and then plopped into a chair near Bruce. "You've been so distant lately. You didn't even compliment me on the program I wrote to discover new Monohedral convex pentagonal tilings." He whined in an exaggerated fashion. As hard as he tried, Bruce could not stop himself from being amused by his friends antics.

"It utilizes a pretty impressive algorithm." Bruce idly murmured, an equally idle smile played on his lips.

"Thank you. Yes. It _is_ impressive." Tony loudly agreed, his tone relieved. "And also I was right about this Lightfoot thing too." He tacked on eagerly.

"Should I be particularly enthused about this update?" Bruce queried. He saw what she could do; he read about it. He wasn't sold on her utility but didn't care enough to question her induction into the Avengers.

"Actually, I'm glad you asked that question." Tony wagged his finger and smirked as he spoke. He stood to turn his chair around and replaced himself in it, only now he was sitting in it backwards like a hip school teacher from the nineties. Bruce became suddenly alert. Tony had that tone in his voice that signaled something unpleasant. For Bruce, that is. These things often had Tony laughing at his expense.

"What?" Bruce's eyes went wider with every repetition. "What is it?"

"You and – Amira, she's called – are going to become very close as long as this little...experiment plays out." Tony impishly explained. Bruce flinched at the word _experiment_. He did not like that word one bit. What could this woman possibly have to do with him in that regard? The details of her case file flickered through his mind at impressive speed. He had the intellectual prowess of a very accomplished scientist, after all. People often forgot that about him. All at once, every piece fell into place as soon as he recalled one small morsel of information.

 _Awareness Manipulator_.

The words ricocheted around his head like a tin maraca thrown into the maw of a crevasse. His expression was open mouthed and idiotic. He slowly raised his head to meet Tony's gaze, his expression unchanged. Tony actually looked concerned.

"You're going to try and control the Hulk." He murmured, entranced. Tony glanced down at Bruce's white knuckle grip on the arm of his chair. The smarmy scientist threw up a defensive hand.

"Control? No! Not control, Bruce." He placated. He made a gesture as if to give Bruce a friendly pat on the arm but, seemingly, thought better of it. "She'll be more like a handler! Which is cool because that makes you sound like a famous person. I have like, seven handlers. It's normal. A totally normal thing." At that Bruce regained his bearings. And his slack-jawed confusion flickered briefly into bitter smirking realization and then, shortly, into tense, unstable anger. He shot out of his seat and towered over Tony, broad and dangerous.

"You talk about normal as if you have any idea." He bit back at him. "I can't believe I bought all that tripe you fed me about the arc-reactor. About how it saved you! Defined you!" His gravelly voice crescendo'd sharply. Tony flinched at the volume.

"Do you really want to have this kind of blow out here, Bruce?" Tony reasoned as he stood and gestured around him. His voice was even and trying not to escalate tension.

"How could you possibly compare your situation to mine, Tony? Huh? What was your worst case scenario?" Bruce pointed accusingly at Tony. His voice was quieter now but his rage was still seething, burning up every word that left his mouth. "That you would _die_? That must have been _very_ hard for you Tony."

"Bruce, the surgery was incredibly dangerous I am lucky-"

"No!" Bruce shouted. Tony stumbled over the leg of his own chair trying to create some space in between himself and the very angry Dr. Banner. Bruce could see his fingers playing on the bracelet that would summon his suit. He didn't care; he would be heard. "You and I are nothing alike. Because I would rather die than hurt another innocent person ever again!" He exclaimed.

 _Her_ eyes flashed in his mind. _Her_ soft hair tickled his nose again for a brief moment. His heart felt as if it were trod upon by a draft horse. "You will never know what that means." His voice broke. He felt weak and panicked.

"Don't you get it? Death is my _best_ case scenario." He finished. His chest rose and fell dramatically; his breathing was labored and his muscles were tense. There was a tone of finality in his voice that made Tony move his hand from his bracelet. Bruce threw himself back into his chair. His pulse was racing and his wavy hair was wild about his face. He removed his glasses to wipe his face and worry his brow. His eyes were swimming with tears he forbade to fall.

"Bruce, I didn't make this call." Tony's voice was barely above a whisper. They both sported a gleaming sheen of sweat on their faces.

"I know." He quivered with the realization that he had almost lost control. "I guess I thought you'd step in for me." He refused to look at Tony in the eyes.

"Maybe I can't compare my experience to yours." Bruce scoffed at this. "But _maybe_ I know you well enough to know a good opportunity for you when I see one." Bruce pushed his shame aside for a moment to meet Tony's gaze. He had that earnest look that Bruce could never help but believe. The moment passed and both understood it as a re-establishment of trust.

"Sorry," Bruce bashfully admitted, "about...that." Tony's gaze softened. He patted his weary friend on the arm and gave him a solemn nod.

"You're right, Bruce. I can't relate to what you feel. But I want to try." Bruce appreciated these times when he was serious, they were rare and welcome. "Besides, I'm the one who should be sorry. I dropped that bomb on you all wrong." Tony winced and sucked in air between his teeth.

 _Here it comes_ , Bruce thought ruefully. Tony blanched and his brow furrowed. His hands were together, as if in prayer, and rested against his lips.

"I worded that very poorly. Can I try that again?" He dared to joke. How very _Stark_ of him. It strangely put Bruce at ease that Tony didn't tip toe around his accident.

"Please. Don't." Bruce glowered and turned back to his work. When he thought he was sure Tony was turned away he let a crooked smirk flash across his face for a brief second. He heard the Iron Avenger's foot steps grow quieter as he left. Before the heavy doors fell shut Tony piped up.

"Trust me on this one, pal. I think working with this girl might do you some good." He optimistically intoned. Bruce wasn't sure at all but it didn't seem to matter what he thought. Fate always found him tied up in new and strange relationships.

* * *

"-As in, _the_ Avengers?" Aaron stuttered. His toothbrush hung sloppily out of his mouth.

"Of course, Aaron. It's not like there's a football team by the same name you could confuse them with." She snapped, rolling her eyes. "And we really can _not_ finish this conversation until you finish brushing your teeth." He returned to the little sink in their cramped sleeping space.

"Whatever, _Mom."_ He finished up his nightly routine. Amira reclined in her bunk and flipped through a magazine. Aaron joined her shortly flopping into his own bunk with a contented sigh.

"Alright, spill the details!" He looked over at Amira expectantly. She set aside her reading material and intertwined her fingers on her stomach.

"I'm being shipped off to New York tomorrow night." She exhaled. He gasped.

"That seems pretty sudden. How long?" He inquired. His tone was slightly anxious.

"It's kind of a 'for the foreseeable future' type of arrangement." She confessed. Aaron dropped his head on his pillow in bewonderment.

"I know it's going to be a big change for us, Aaron. You're going to have a lot to adjust to." She continued on, gesturing dramatically.

"I don't think we've ever been apart more than a couple months." Aaron realized. His brows creased together and a nervous sneer marred his face. Amira struggled to keep her composure. Aaron self consciously schooled his expression to one of nonchalance. "It's cool, y'know? I feel like girls are afraid to approach me with you around, anyway. You're like Baba Yaga- do you know who Baba Yaga is?" He turned to her expecting her to ask. She reminded herself to hide his language learning software. He was getting a little too big for his britches with all the new vocabulary.

"I don't know what that is, Aaron, but I'm sure it's a super rude thing to call someone." She chided sternly. "Especially if that someone just got you a position piloting for _the_ Avengers."

"'Mira." It was about at this point that his brain melted. His face was priceless. She began to chortle. She then noticed his drying curls had settled shockingly atop his head making him look, literally, _struck_ dumb. It was this detail that sent Amira wild with giggles.

"You ass!" He sharply whispered. She only laughed harder. Then he grew suddenly pale, making his olive skin turn somewhat yellow. "I get to meet Thor!" He soberly exclaimed. "How?!"

"What can I say? I have a way with Fury." She bragged. He didn't know that Fury sort of caved in on this one. Aaron was sat straight up in his bed. "Don't tell me you won't be able to sleep." Amira smirked.

"How could I?" He wondrously intoned. Amira released one more breathy laugh.

"You could try using that thing." She gestured to his well-worn tanakh, which was neatly placed on his minimal bed stand. "It never fails to make me snooze."

"Hey!" He whined. "That's no way to talk about our holy text." He snatched the old leather bound tome and lovingly passed a hand over the cover. He read it every night; it's pages were dog-eared and notes were crammed into the margins in neat script.

" _Our_ holy text, he says." She muttered low enough that he couldn't hear. She did not want to go through that lecture again. If she heard him go on about their _heritage_ again she might actually explode. "Sleep. Don't sleep. It doesn't matter to me, just as long as you're packed and ready to go tomorrow." Amira made a move to switch her lamp off.

"Oh no." Aaron ruefully moaned.

"What? What is it?"

"I've got to break things off with Melanie." He blurted.

"Oh my God, Aaron-"

"I know!" He confessed.

"Are you kidding-"

" _I know!_ " He insisted, grabbing his pillow and stuffing it in his face with shame.

"You had better not pull this kind of crap when we get to New York, I swear..." Amira threatened.

"It's not my fault, 'Mira. It's these damned cheekbones. They make me look roguish and adventurous." Aaron reveled in his mock-martyrdom. Amira just groaned and rolled to opposite to face away from him. She pulled her covers up around her shoulders. Soon, it was quite silent in their shared sleeping quarters.

"You know, for a second there I thought you were leaving me behind." Aaron admitted; his voice almost inaudible. "It never occurred to me that we'd ever be very part apart for very long." Amira turned to him. His expression was a thoughtful one. She gave him a sorrowful smile. In this moment, he looked so young. She could remember wiping away his tears at times like this when they were children.

"You don't have to worry about that, Aaron." She assured. It was harder than she remembered to comfort him. It had been awhile, after all. "Just get some sleep. We have to make preparations tomorrow morning." With that, she turned her lamp off and rolled on her side and began compartmentalizing all of her worries and fears regarding her new post and her brother. She became distracted thinking of him. Perhaps, she had done him a disservice by making sure he always stuck by her all these years. Maybe she guarded him too closely. She liked to tell herself that she protected him out of duty but she knew that she worried for him out of her own sisterly caring. Whatever the reason, Amira would never leave him to be alone.

"I promise." She whispered. It was a meek prayer that she knew well. Her train of thought deteriorated into dreams.

* * *

 **Listening to Danzig while writing makes me weirdly productive! Here's a little vocabulary, for those that need it (I certainly did).**

 **A _kippah_ (skullcap or _yarmulke_ ) is a small hat or headcovering. In traditional Jewish communities only men wear _kippot_ (the plural of kippah) and they are worn at all times (except when sleeping and bathing).**

 **The Hebrew Bible, also known as Mikra ("what is read") or Tanakh.**

 **These definitions were taken from MyJewishLearning.**

 **So as you can see, I'm exploring writing about Judaism. I, myself, am not Jewish - except in heritage - and know very little about the religion itself. I fully expect to get things wrong but I have also put many hours into reading up on practices and vocabulary. There is only so much you can learn from Wikipedia, however. If you see something that ought to be corrected please, PLEASE PM ME. I want to try to keep the evidence of my many mistakes from flooding the review section. I guess I'm a little vain ;-;. Anyway, please correct me. I would feel absolutely dreadful if I disrespected this religion or people in any way. Thank you so very much.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Greetings! I am so very sorry for the delay. I have been busy this week but I promise to try my very best to make chapters on time. It may seem slow but this story is going places.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Marvel's.**

* * *

Chapter Five - Light Amid the Gray Morning

Rare was the occasion where Bruce Banner slept through the entirety of a night. The stale heat of his room made him itch and stir in his bed. He rose up, wiping the last scales of sleep from his eyes. The garish floor to ceiling windows in his quarters were obscured soundly by large black out curtains. He stumbled over to peer tentatively out onto the city. The view was _exquisite._ Cabs and cars moved far below him to and fro, their headlights still glowing in the bleak light of dawn. After the initial breathlessness of the first appraisal of his view all he saw from then on was miles and miles of potential disaster. He shied away from the view. This time of the morning was his to try and forget that he was a walking bomb. No one else in the tower would be awake, it was far too early. No one would disturb him. He even made sure J.A.R.V.I.S. didn't address him until after he had had coffee and sufficient alone-time.

He guided his fingers through his short wavy hair to ensure it looked at least civilized in case he ran into another human. He lazily loped over to his dresser and pulled out a clean navy t-shirt and a pair of khaki colored chinos. They would do until he had to shower and dress later for the business of meeting this 'Lightfoot' or Amira Mizrahi as he know knew her from Fury's correspondence. He slipped into his clothing unceremoniously and tried to avoid his reflection in the mirror on his bureau. It was then as she stood to exit his room that he thought of _her –_ of Betty. He would think of her innumerable times in one day, to be sure. But the first thought of her in each day was special. It was a prayer. Or was it a plea for forgiveness? He was no longer so sure. He exhaled sharply through his nose and exited his room.

* * *

Amira was violently shocked awake by the shrill beeping of her watch alarm. She made an immediate move to silence it so as not to disturb the other passengers. Her heart was pounding rapidly from the rude awakening and her breathing came in quick succession. She almost always awoke like this. In an effort to relax herself, she took a moment to blearily survey the dim cabin around her. Aaron was gracelessly snoring – mouth agape – to her left while pale morning light seeped in through the cracks of opened windows here and there in the aircraft. She cringed at the sour taste of her mouth and suddenly felt very inclined to stretch her legs. Awkwardly, she picked her way up the aisle, bracing against slight turbulence. She prayed they wouldn't make her sit back down. Finally she reached the bathroom which, blessedly, had no line.

Amira squeezed herself into the cramped space and locked the door behind her. She set her compact toiletries bag onto the ugly beige laminate sink stand. Her reflection was not a welcome sight. The harsh fluorescent light made her look angular and gaunt, cutting harsh shadows into her face and highlighting the mauve staining below her eyes. Her irises looked like sharkish black pools and her hair, shoddily piled into a bun on her crown, was snarled and fraught with flyaways. She sneered and made a small noise of disgust at her own reflection. Begrudgingly, she unzipped her small black bag and set into repairing her haggard visage.

There would likely be little time for her to do these things when she landed. She had been informed that transport to the Avenger's tower would be immediate. It did not usually occur to her to 'fix herself up' for her work, she felt utterly stupid applying a bit of fine powder across the flesh of her cheeks, yet here she was. She pondered that, perhaps, what truly made her feel foolish was the small amount of hero-worship she was indulging herself in. She had known Clint before he was an Avenger but after she saw the footage of him saving the human race with the rest of them she was fighting a blush when next they spoke. It felt surreal that she was going to meet the protectors of earth. She remembered her ancient '3D' images of Captain America in action during World War II and how she would fanatically gaze at them through her stereoscopic viewer. She couldn't remember if she loved those pictures so much because she idolized the Captain or if it was because they were her father's. He had given them to her when she was very young.

Shaking her head loose of reminiscent thoughts, she set into the task of applying a modest bit of gently tinted lip coloring. She tended to favor darker, muted shades of red for her lips. It didn't stand out too harshly against her golden skin. She pressed her lips together to ensure the coloration was even. Feeling satisfied with the state of her face, she set to work on her angry curls. The most difficult part was combing out the tangles without making her hair explode into a staticky mess. It took finesse and a bit of water to reach an acceptable solution – a neat braid cradling the curve of her neck that came to rest on the shelf of her chest. She did not often find herself to be beautiful, this time included, but she looked adult and professional, which was enough for her.

The aircraft lurched suddenly sending her strewn about cosmetics clattering to the floor. She growled and collected her possessions and shoved them back into her bag. The dull chime preceding intercom announcements sounded throughout the plane. The altitude was dropping, they would soon by landing. Her timing was impeccable as ever. Amira slipped out of the bathroom concisely and strode back to her seat. Aaron had apparently awoken in her absence. He was dreamily looking out of the window over the occupant of the window seat. He looked better after an airplane nap than she did after actually _trying_ to look decent. With a sigh, she collapsed into her seat and looked quizzically at Aaron.

"It's going to be strange." He commented as he neatly organized the cable of his earbuds.

"Is there ever anything normal about what we do?" Amira lazily replied.

"No, I mean- We haven't been back since school." He explained. "It's going to be strange to be in New York again." He mused.

"I kind of missed it. It feels like home." Aaron nodded.

"You clean up good." Aaron noticed. Amira made a throaty noise of dissaproval and then looked down at her attire to check if he was seeing the same thing she was. Her outfit consisted of a plain gray shift dress – the minimal flair of which was a prim, white baby doll collar – and an accompanying black blazer. It was the only thing remotely professional that she owned. That is, if you defined 'professional' by normal standards. She had Stark-made flex-kevlar cat suits for days, and yet, only owned one pair of ill-kept stockings.

"Please, Aaron. I look like Courtney Love, attorney-at-law." She gestured to her ensemble with disapproval. Aaron nodded in agreement.

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing." He reasoned, idly plucking her dress collar. "I mean, it's not as kinder- _whore-_ ible as you think." She rolled her eyes and indulged him with a _hardy-har-har_. He inclined his head and shifted in his snug seat. "Besides, you don't need a posh wardrobe to prove to them that you're Avenger's material. Your raw talent and professionalism will speak for itself." His eyes were closed and his lips were comfortable set into a calm smile, he seemed to believe every word he had just said. Amira distractedly worried the hem of her dress to hide her embarrassment at his compliment. She hadn't yet informed him yet what her true purpose on the team would be.

"We're going to be picked up when we land. Be ready for a quick transition." She mentioned, trying to change the subject.

"Nice! Limo service and everything. V.I.P. already, I like it." Aaron mooned. He pulled his shades – Wayfarers, not Aviators – out of his shirt collar and slipped them on, attempting to look the part of someone who would ride in a limo.

"If anything I've heard about Tony Stark is true, I think you should be expecting something much more dramatic." She whispered, not wanting his name to be heard by anyone seated around them.

"What else could it possibly be, a Popemobile?" Aaron snorted, removing his sunglasses and looking incredulously at his sister. Amira just laughed and shook her head while the airplane touched down with a discomfiting bounce.

* * *

Early May brought a chilly wind that stung Bruce's cheeks and made his eyes water. At this height, the breeze was always inescapable but he found it to be cleansing. Tony had given him twenty four hour access to the maintenance elevator a few weeks into his stay at the tower. It was, as he called it, a gift; something for Bruce to have all to himself. He placed a protective hand over the mug of coffee he had put together on his way to the roof, shielding it from the biting cold. He padded around to his secret hideout betwixt a large air conditioning unit and a covered transformer. It made for a nice shelter from the wind and the view was nothing to sneeze at. He set his coffee down on a small upturned milk crate and lowered himself gently into the faded lawn chair beside it.

He usually went to his crow's nest to clear his mind of all the daily drudgery that plagued him but today he could not stop himself from thinking very hard about this fresh hell that had descended upon his head like pigeon droppings. He sat forward in his chair and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Green and red bursts of color bloomed across the blackness as he applied pressure, physically willing the idea to become more compressed and manageable. He gave up, with a growl of frustration and settle for cradling his head in his hands. She was due to arrive in two hours.

He could always run away. It was easy enough to attempt and, since he had served his purpose tracking down Loki, they probably wouldn't go looking for him again. Bruce didn't want his position on the team to permanently be that of the Hulk. This girl coming in and trying to control his other side cemented this fate. If they could manage it, he would be doomed to be remembered as the violent, green, screaming primate that didn't use pronouns and liked only to 'smash'. And that was never who he was. Not totally. He watched the ghostly city lights flicker and waver below the fog pooling low onto the city streets and thought about fading into it himself. The tracks and grooves in the palms of his hands kept him occupied as he tried to stave off thoughts of cowardice.

* * *

"A helicopter?" Aaron sighed. The jet black metal beast was roaring to life as they approached. A sleek white 'Stark Industries' logo let them know that this was most certainly their lift. Two standard issue clandestine organization goons stood suited before them in government black and white. Their ties whipped around their stoic faces due to the gusts from the helicopter's whirling propeller blades. One of them was holding a rumpled piece of paper that read 'MIZRAHI'. Amira stifled a laugh; Aaron didn't bother.

"Not impressed?" Amira raised her eyebrows at Aaron. He just fished his sunglasses out of the open collar of his painstakingly pressed shirt and flashed a toothy grin. Amira shook her head. He was the only person she knew who would wear – and pull off – a linen suit and suede wing tips to such an important event.

"It'll be weird being a passenger for a change." Amira sighed a laugh and then took a hefty step into the aircraft. The pilot turned to face her. Even with the headset and sunglasses she could recognize that face.

"Maria! Long time no see!" Amira crowed jubilantly! She shook her hand with gusto. "Aren't you a little overqualified to be Tony's private pilot?"

"Good to see you, Amira. I thought I'd stand in today and see if you're prepared. Ready for your first day?" The brunette's sharpish voice was gruff over the hum of the propellers.

"I think it's best I don't think about it too much." Amira stuttered, averting her eyes. Maria just smiled knowingly and turned her attention toward Aaron who was bounding into the helicopter.

"Maria! So-" Aaron began excitedly.

"Yes, I am still single. No I am not interested." She cut him off. Her smile was still there but it was less warm and more viperesque. Aaron just raised two placating hands and grinned.

"I was just going to say how nice it is to see you again." He lied. Maria threw her head back and laughed.

"Buckle in before I decide to do a barrel roll and throw you out." She snarked.

"You and I both know that would be a terrible idea." Aaron yelled over his shoulder as he turned to take his seat. Amira slapped his arm as he passed.

The aircraft shortly lifted with ease under Maria's technique. Amira's heart was battered with pangs of anxiety. The moody weather did nothing to improve her outlook. She did her best to swallow her fear and wear her bravest face.

* * *

Bruce ran a hand down the front of his indigo button down in an effort to quell the slight wrinkles. Everyone had decided it was in their best interest to leave Dr. Banner alone after seeing how irritable he was. Interactions with him were terse and _very_ brief. He had chosen to be on his own towards the door while Tony Stark and Steve Rogers conversed about the 'new girl' openly on the edge of the helipad against the backdrop of skyline and dense clouds. Tony was pantomiming animatedly trying to communicate an idea with his blonde cohort. Steve had that dutiful furrow in his brow that was ever present.

Bruce was indulging himself in some very pessimistic daydreaming. _Surely_ , this Amira was going to be the most annoying thing that had happened to him for a long time. She would be bossy and rude. Her mannerisms would be off-putting, of course.

 _'Maybe she'll breathe fire and a hook for a hand.'_ Bruce rancorously scorned his own childish musings. Obviously, this woman harbored no ill will towards him she was just doing a job. These days he felt more like a chore than a man. His best hope was that his immunity to everything included her abilities.

To his great alarm, the muted sounds of an incoming helicopter disturbed the air. He tried not to glare at Tony when the sharp dressed genius turned around to give him an exaggerated pair of thumbs up. Bruce blew out a puff of air and shook his head. He took his place just behind Tony and Steve to greet the newcomer. The vehicle advanced quickly and was soon elegantly touching down on the helipad on the roof of Stark Tower. Bruce narrowed his eyes to shield them from the violently churning air and also sneakily tried to nonchalantly spy into the cabin. With a mechanical sneezing sound the engine cut off and the whirring blades slowed. Tony glanced at Bruce and gave him a nod of solemnity. Bruce chose not to return it. He could only close his eyes and follow as Steve approached the new recruit.

The so-called Amira stepped down from the helicopter with the familiarity of one who often dismounted from such vehicles. She wavered slightly in her heels as she approached; she flushed when her ankle almost rolled completely making Bruce cringe. She was shorter than he expected in person, her shoulders were slim and he forearms followed suit in their own daintiness. Behind her a taller man hopped out of the craft. He removed his sunglasses and took in the height of the tower. He seemed pleased as punch to be there and turned around to exchange some exuberant words with Agent Hill.

"Miss Mizrahi," Steve smoothly greeted her, he punctuated the salutations with an outstretched hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet-." She reached a petite hand out to Steve Rogers to shake but Tony cut in and intercepted the greeting himself. She looked from side to side with uncertainty as she shook his hand.

"Tony Stark. Master of metal. Armored Avenger. Really smart, handsome guy. It's a pleasure to meet you." He introduced himself proudly. "So what is it? Fury wouldn't say and, well, your file was a little vague. What's your deal? How'd you get your-" The billionaire man-child sloppily gesticulated to the general area of her torso and head, "-thingy?" Amira bemusedly quirked her eyebrows. "Science experiment gone right?" He gestured toward Captain America on his right who proceeded to give a slightly disapproving sigh. "A science experiment gone wrong?" Tony gave an identical indication towards Bruce Banner on his left.

"Was that necessary?" The drained scientist intoned. Tony paused and gave his colleague a double take and then a hesitant pat on the shoulder.

"Neither, actually." Amira confirmed, her umbra eyes lively with amusement. Her chestnut curls had come somewhat undone in the turbulent wind. Tony paused his eyes never leaving hers. Bruce inwardly scoffed. _Obviously_ , he thought.

"Alien?" He ventured. Amira let out a hearty laugh, her eyes were made owlishly round at the suggestion.

"Nothing as impressive as that." She sighed with a smile.

"You're a mutant." Bruce piped up. Steve and Tony both turned their heads in surprise to look at him.

Amira rewarded his correct answer with a smirk and small nod, he could just make out the pearls of her teeth behind her lips. "Beta class." She confirmed. Bruce hesitantly grimaced. He hoped it had, at least, looked like a smile. Tony could be heard mumbling that he was just about to guess that she was a mutant.

"Did you come up out of Professors Xavier's school?" He asked, trying to fill the silence. Then he jumped a little as he remembered that common courtesy dictated that they exchange names. "I'm Bruce Banner, by the way." He offered his hand.

"Amira. And, yes, I'm proud to say that I did." She grasped his hand warmly. He mechanically squeezed her hand in the exchange, not wanting to be remembered for having a weak handshake. "And it's an honor to meet you, Dr. Banner." He scoffed bitterly which was an unbidden reaction.

"Is it?" He intoned, his teeth barely moving and his half lidded eyes meeting hers. It wasn't even a question, really, more like a scrutinizing accusation of her intent. He couldn't read her expression but after a split second the corners of her mouth raised slightly. He hadn't yet realized that he was still gripping her hand in his.

"We're glad to have you on." Amira's gaze darted to the blonde Captain. Her hand slipped out of his own effortlessly. Bruce noted the color that had come to her cheeks. So - she was enamored of the Captain, most people were. He closed his eyes and knit his brow. desperately trying to ignore the scolding look Tony was giving him. Steve was a hero in many ways, and he was able to, blessedly, save the day again by not allowing _that_ moment to continue on any longer than it already had. "Steve Rogers." He attempted to shake her hand without being interrupted by Tony. Aaron strolled over to stand beside Amira to introduce himself.

"Call me Amira." She acquiesced. "And I'm happy to be, well - on!" She stuttered.

"Well, hey, you're a perfect fit." Tony butted in. "I, for one, am eager for a demonstration!"

* * *

 **The chapter in which I show my age with the kinderwhore reference. It was a fashion trend that lasted about five minutes in the early-mid nineties. Google it for a good laugh.**

 **They finally meet! Let me know what you guys think. I hope you like Amira and Aaron c: I hope you like the exchange between the Avenger's and Amira. Find out next week!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Late again. Shame! Honestly though, with work it is difficult to keep up. I hope whoever is reading this is staying with me c:**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Marvel's.**

* * *

Chapter Six - Like A Girl Who Hides Her Cheeks Behind Her Hair

Aaron placed a hand on Amira's shoulder as the reflective Stark Tower came into view. He was sat across from her and seemed to notice she was in a bit of distress. Her pulse was rising and her nerves were in danger of overtaking her senses. She started smoothing down her hair and clothes.

"Hey, hey, Crazy. Stop messing your hair up." Aaron complained. She hissed at him and crossed her arms petulantly. She blew a stray curl that she had loosed out of her eyes.

"This is so stupid. I'm a soldier for God's sake." She moaned. The helicopter rounded on the building and Amira's stomach dropped. "Got to keep it together." She mumbled to herself through her teeth. Aaron lunged forward and grabbed both of her shoulders and shook her slightly. Her eyes were wide and wild with annoyance and surprise.

"Amira Iva Mizrahi, you snap out of it right now!" He commanded, voice thick with melodrama. She curled her lip at the use of her middle name.

"We are going to be landing on that helipad in thirty seconds or so, depending on how much of an amateur Maria is-"

"I heard that."

"You are going to nail this. I'll hang back with Maria and let you make your introduction. This is about you, after all. I'm just tagging along for the glory." Aaron instructed. Amira nodded affirmatively and swallowed.

"You're right. You're right. I've got this." She sat up straight and looked out of her window to see three _very_ recognizable men standing on the helipad. "Oh shit, Aaron, that's Captain America standing right there." She pushed his hands away to press her face up to the glass. He looked just as blonde and majestic in person, even if he was just wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans. Aaron snickered.

"You and Dad, I swear." He murmured nostalgically. Amira ignored him and shamelessly gawked at them. Tony Stark looked much more casual than he did on television. Though he was wearing a tailored suit jacket and slacks, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and it gave him a very careless appearance. By now they were close enough that their hair was being blown back by the gusts from the helicopter.

She couldn't see Dr. Banner very well at all. He was obscured behind the other two. She could make out his dark, swept back, wavy hair and his deep blue shirt. He had a hand raised – his palm towards her – to protect his eyes.

" _Not all that scary, is he?"_ She thought to herself. " _Maybe he's even a nice guy. Maybe-"_ There was a shift in the cabin as the helicopter touched down. Amira didn't have the luxury of being afraid now. Her body was on autopilot as Aaron slid the door open and prompted her to step out. She looked back only once after disembarking from the aircraft. Aaron gave her a little wink and nodded towards Steve as if to say 'Go get 'em, Tiger.' She took one step.

" _You_ s _hould have worn flats you moron."_ She screamed internally. The instability was immediate. She walked unsteadily towards the Captain and tried not to completely eat it on the way. A fine blush crept it's way up her neck the closer she got.

"Miss Mizrahi." Thoughts of anxiety were pushed away and the cool mask of a professional took it's place. She was going to shake Captain America's hand and it was going to be no big deal.

"It's a pleasure to meet-" Except she _wasn't_ going to shake his hand, apparently, as Tony Stark had completely crashed the introduction and taken her hand, as well.

" _This isn't my fault, right?"_ She panicked.

"Tony Stark. Master of metal. Armored Avenger. Really smart, handsome guy." She fought a snort. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He was just as showy as he was on television, it would seem. No disappointment there. She opened her mouth to respond but Tony was an expert at not letting others get a word in.

"So what is it? Fury wouldn't say and, well, your file was a little vague. What's your deal? How'd you get your-"

" _Here it comes._ _"_

"-thingy." He finished. Amira nodded at his predictability, her lips were pressed together in a knowing smirk. Fury usually left it to her to reveal her mutant status at her own discretion, which she greatly appreciated. Some people still reacted...poorly to that kind of announcement.

"Science experiment gone right?"

" _Is he always like this?"_

"Science experiment gone wrong?" Amira balked at Tony's mention of Bruce's condition. The man himself met her eyes for a small moment and then looked to Tony.

"Was that necessary?" Came the gravelly response. At least things had progressed from awkward to amusing. Amira could deal with this shift, as she did so love to laugh.

"Alien?" His eyebrows were lifted and his tone was almost hopeful.

"Nothing as impressive as that." She replied, feeling almost forlorn that it truly _wasn't_ anywhere near as impressive as that.

"You're a mutant." Bruce proclaimed plainly. He sounded impatient, like Tony was taking too long to figure it out. His arms were crossed and he was looking at her expectantly. She nodded an affirmative.

"Beta class." She felt as if she was being heavily scrutinized. He was lightly baring his teeth and peering at her intensely from behind his glasses. She visually dissected him right back. He was a broad man; stocky and strong in appearance. He towered over her, but then again, most people did. He had haphazardly swept his wavy dark hair out of his eyes – brown eyes, she noted. " _He's sizing me up._ _Fine._ _B_ _ut why the blatant skepticism?_ " She jerked slightly when he cleared his throat.

"Did you come up out of Professor Xavier's school?" He asked. She opened her mouth to answer but before she could reply he unwound his crossed arms and introduced himself. "I'm Bruce Banner, by the way." He extended his hand, palm facing slightly up. She grasped it cordially. His hand was warm and dry and his grip was snug.

"Amira. And, yes, I'm proud to say that I did." Amira dipped her head very slightly. "And it's my honor to meet you, Dr. Banner." She added. And she meant it. Suddenly he looked very agitated, indeed, he was even bold enough to scoff directly at her statement. Her expression faded to one of confusion, but only for a brief moment.

"Is it?" His grip tightened.

" _Oh._ " She thought, suddenly – almost gleefully. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She couldn't hide her mirth; it was too absurd not to laugh at. " _He doesn't want me here._ " She realized. " _I wonder why no one saw fit to inform me that he wasn't a willing participant in this experiment._ " After being harangued for months by Fury to take part in this "job" it turned out that she was being foisted onto an unwilling subject. Because _that_ always cultivates really healthy and productive relationships. Amira couldn't come up with a single appropriate thing to say to him in reply, so she said nothing at all.

"We're glad to have you on." _The_ Captain America addressed her. His tone was almost apologetic, but she barely noticed. He had the same winning smile from all of her pictures. "Steve Rogers." Her odd exchange with Dr. Banner was miles away as soon as Steve's baby blues crinkled with his smile.

"Call me Amira." She inwardly fist pumped at how cool and confident she came off. "And I'm happy to be, well – on!" If only she could have maintained her cool confidence.

"Well, hey, you're a perfect fit. I, for one, am eager for a demonstration!" Tony exclaimed.

"'Mira won't mind showing off, I'm sure." Aaron joked, insinuating himself into the conversation. He had such a knack for that. "I'm Aaron – her brother and your new standby pilot." Steve gave him a very soldier-esque, terse nod.

"Fury told me about you – said you're a real ace." He remarked as they shook.

"I do alright." Aaron's arrogant tone betrayed his true feelings on his own piloting skills.

"And you just pilot helicopters or...?" Steve issued a challenge. Playfully, of course.

"I can pilot anything that flies."

"Anything?"

"Yes, sir. I can even show you my logged Harrier hours, if you like." Aaron crossed his arms triumphantly. Steve chuckled and gave Aaron an approving smile.

"Alright, I'm impressed." He admitted. "There's no shortage of talent between the two of you, it would seem." Amira mentally bookmarked these words so she could fawn over the fact that Captain America had said them. About her. Well, halfway about her.

"It runs in the family." Aaron replied. His boastfulness made her blush furiously. She reminded herself to scold him later as he made his introductions to the other two Avengers. He seemed to make a really great impression. It didn't surprise her.

"It was great to meet you guys but Maria and I have a date back at the hangar." Aaron bent slightly at the waist. And held his two hands out in a shrugging gesture, palms up. Tony, Steve, and Bruce looked at him quizzically. "She promised me a private tour." He said, as if it were some great secret.

"Aaron." Amira warned. "Go." Aaron frowned at her and sighed. She could hear him muttering about how she was a spoil-sport. She had asked him to be professional. He never listened to her, though. Aaron sauntered back to the helicopter, which roared to life at his signal. All four people looked on in silence.

"I-Uh, your brother seems...nice." Bruce offered.

"He's not going to be breathing anymore if Maria finds out what he said." Amira flatly drawled.

"Can't blame a man for trying." Tony reasoned. He unfolded an arm and gestured toward the door. "Let's take this party inside, shall we?"

* * *

For the umpteenth time that day Amira craned her neck to get a full view of her surroundings. Tony had lead them all to a very fine looking lounge. Soft amber light spilled out of expensive fixtures and up the walls. Rounded bar stools were neatly arranged around a sleek black marble bar. The mantle behind it was crammed with liquor which was, no doubt, the toppest of shelves. That was just the bar; the entire lounge was open and awash with natural light from the large plate glass windows. There were a few, very comfortable looking chairs nestled around a fireplace island, and next to it, a coffee table with some books for the lounger's perusal. Amira had never seen such wealth. As elegant as the room was, it exuded a warmth that could only come from being well lived in.

"A water for the lady." Amira jumped slightly, Tony expectantly held a condensating glass. When had he even prepared that? She accepted the cool drink with thanks and took a dutiful sip.

"This room is gorgeous, Mr. Stark." Amira complimented. He gave an exaggerated wince.

"For the love of God- Just Tony, please." He protested, his tone flat but amiable. "And, thank you. Pepper decorated it. She'd be tickled to hear you say that you like it." Tony picked up a minimalistically designed pitcher filled with ice water and a few perfectly round lemon slices. He tossed his head to indicate the space behind him. "If you'll just follow me to the board room." He walked past the bar and up a couple of steps to an elevated 'board room' which was actually just a large oblong table, with white lilies for a centerpiece. Amira crept cautiously up the steps, followed by Bruce and Steve. She picked the seat on the farthest end. The beautiful rosewood of the table shimmered beneath her fingers. The three men chose seats that were opposite her, with Tony at the head of the table, Steve on his right, and Bruce on his left. Exactly as they had been arranged when they greeted her on the helipad.

"So, Amira – may I call you Amira?" Tony did not wait for an answer. "Amira, we are going to have a discussion about your place on this team. I realize that this sounds incredibly boring, and believe me it will be, but it has to be done. Now, do you know why you were brought on?" He inquired while pouring himself and his comrades some waters. Amira looked doe-eyed and dumbfounded where she sat all the way on the other side of the table. Her little hands were crossed – one over the other – before her. She pursed her lips and began thus.

"I'm under the impression that I was brought on for the purpose of-" She chose her words carefully. "- _aiding_ Dr. Banner." She enunciated, wishing to be as diplomatic as possible. Bruce's gaze flickered to her own and then back to his water. She cleared her throat and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "And for the incidental occasion where my abilities may come in useful to the team in some other way." Tony took a hefty swig of his beverage and looked down his glass at her. After swallowing he released a mighty sigh and shook his head.

"Well, actually yeah. You pretty much got it pegged. But-" He held up his finger here, "the devil is in the details. So let's talk details." He inclined and rested his intertwined fingers on his stomach. "I have developed – with Dr. Banner's _almost_ willing participation – a little device that we're calling the 'Halo Cuff' – Halo for short. It's a cute little name we've been throwing around the office. We created it when Fury told us he had a possible candidate for, how did you put it? _Aiding_ Bruce, here." Tony leaned forward to delicately open the silver case with two hands. The sunlight pouring in through the windows reflected off of it and painted streaks of golden light across Amira's face and set her eyes alight. Tony turned the box around and slid it toward her. Within was a simplistic, matte black object set in the velvet of the box. She made a move to take it out of the box but first gave Tony an inquisitive look.

"May I?" She marveled.

"Go nuts, kid."

She turned her attention back to the little bauble in the box and ran a few exploratory fingers over the side of it before plucking it out of it's abode. It was exactly as he described, a discrete cuff. It was about an inch in width, by Amira's estimation, and weighed almost nothing. There was a small black inlaid square on one side, made of the same matte black rubber material, and a clasp on the other. The clasp, she assumed, was for affixing the Halo Cuff to one's wrist. She peered up at Tony from behind her eyelashes; a silent question.

"I'll let Dr. Banner expound. He is much better with words than me." Bruce's eyebrows shot up and he turned to his friend. His mouth formed what could be called a smile but his eyes promised violence. After Tony reciprocated his look with a winning smile of his own, Bruce removed his glasses. Ceremoniously, he slipped them into his shirt pocket.

"The _Halo Cuff_ ," He sarcastically enunciated the title, "is the best of the many ideas we considered for solving the problem of, well, _me_. It wasn't actually supposed to go into development until we discovered whether or not your abilities would even work on the _Other Guy,_ but Tony got excited and advanced an early prototype." He stopped to scratch the stubbly flesh beneath his chin. Amira watched intently, waiting. "That one is yours. I have one that is identical. They communicate to one another via satelite."

"We have discovered, through extensive research, that when I am in the process of... _changing-_ " He paused. "My heart rate takes on a very unique rhythm, one that Halo now recognizes and can report to you and JARVIS immediately. Now-"

"Sorry-" She interrupted. He cocked his head. "Who is Jarvis?"

"Right!" Tony crowed. "JARVIS say hello, please."

"Good morning, Miss." A congenial voice greeted her.

"Good morning, omniscient computer...guy." Amira replied, uncertainly.

"JARVIS will do just fine, Miss." He corrected her, his tone no less polite.

"JARVIS here, is like our very own Hal 9000, only a little more even keel." Tony proudly announced.

"As far as you know, Sir."

"That's incredible. He understands subtle humor." Amira said, amazed.

"He takes after me." Tony beamed. She certainly had more questions for later but she remembered Halo in her hands.

"Sorry, you were saying Dr. Banner?"

"Should you choose to take this on, we can't reasonably expect you to follow me around everywhere I go. Halo allows for more flexibility." Bruce summated. Like Amira, he seemed to suffer from lack of rest. She imagined he must always feel like that, like he can never let his guard down. And The entire prospect of the Halo seemed wearisome to him.

"I have put together a sort of plan of action, should he start to lose control." Steve added. "And after reviewing everything we know about the Hulk's pattern of behavior, Tony and Bruce have helped me formulate a few drills we can run for multiple scenarios. Again- provided that he isn't immune to your abilities." Amira gently placed the bracelet back into it's case and laid her hands flat on the table. Steve sat straight up in his chair, appearing to be as much of a captain as his moniker suggested. "Ideally, _if_ you ever have to answer the call of that bracelet, you will be prepared for anything that's coming."

"So!" Tony bellowed like an over-exuberant emcee. "Now that you know all about our dysfunctional little family and what living with us entails," He leaned forward, his whiskey colored eyes boring into hers, "are you in?" Amira had been holding her breath the entire time. Of course, it was easy enough to guess what he was going to ask her but actually hearing it was still electrifying.

The entire situation was all so _new_ and tantalizing. Living in a house with an fancy butler-bot, taking tea with Captain America, or fighting monsters from outerspace were things Amira never imagined she'd be doing in a million years. Her brain was lashing out at her to say yes now! That part of her that wanted to do good for mankind was cheering her on. She _could_ do good with the Avengers. _The Avengers_. She said it over and over in her mind. She could even help Dr. Banner.

But did he even want her help?

She let her small hand rest on the open lid of the Halo cuff and slowly pressed it closed. In and out, she breathed – slowly, methodically.

"Dr. Banner, what is your opinion?" She said, her voice sounded muted but not meek. He snorted and gave her a mocking look. It disheartened her. She wanted to give him a chance to say no. It seemed like no one else had.

"Pertaining to what, exactly?" He sneered at her, baring his slightly crooked teeth at her once again.

"Do you want any of this? The cuffs? The drills?" Her tone wasn't incredulous or impatient. It was even and tender. She had hoped it would diffuse his own sour demeanor.

"It's not about me." He replied quietly. Steve and Tony watched on, stiffly. His voice was heavy with something she could not decode. The lines under his eyes seemed to be etched deeper than before. His head was angled slightly down and one wavy lock of his hair flopped down to rest above his troubled brow.

"I want to give you a way out." She said. At this he stared at her. _Into_ her. Confused. After a moment he spoke.

"The alternative to this is that I continue to walk around one of the most densely populated cities on earth betting on luck." His voice was rough and exhausted but it wasn't dishonest. "You must understand me when I say that I don't have any other choice." Amira soberly nodded through all that he said and realized that, that was the most concise answer she supposed she would get from him. It was neither yes nor no. It was exactly as he said. He didn't have a choice.

After a while, she looked down at her folded hands on the table top. With a resolute scoot forward in her chair, she appraised each man at the other end of the table before resting her gaze on Tony Stark. She swallowed.

"Very well. When do we start?"

* * *

 **Kind of a fun exchange from her point of view, huh? Six chapters in and she is just now becoming an Avenger. Well, quasi-Avenger. Also, grumpy Banner is best Banner, I don't care what anyone says. I promise he won't be such a buzzkill for long, though. Get ready for a bit of a slow burn you guys and don't forget to let me know what you think. I try to pm responses to every review so if you leave one, check your inbox! 'Til next week.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi! We got some good stuff comin' up. ENJOY some Amira/Bruce time for now.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Marvel's.**

* * *

Chapter Seven - My Eyes Deny It

The remainder of the day went by very, very fast. First, she was given an enthusiastic tour of the tower by Tony. She continued to be stunned by how lavish and modern everything was. Nothing came without bells and whistles; the coffee machine was so fancy that the touch screen user interface was in Italian! It certainly beat the dingy, makeshift sand trap she inhabited before by miles. His employees seemed loyal and happy. Amira was impressed at how tightly the ship was run. Tony assured her this was entirely Pepper's doing. Amira didn't doubt him. The woman sounded like an absolute paragon. She also couldn't miss the sweet affectation in his voice whenever he mentioned her business prowess. He truly loved her, there was no doubt.

She was delighted to chat with Steve over lunch where she was able to ask him all the questions she had since she was a little girl. He told her all about World War II and what Wakanda was like – a rare thing given that he was one of very few outsider's ever allowed to set foot within the country's borders. Being on good terms with the Black Panther came with perks like that. He was funny, often times without meaning it, and he didn't get very many of Amira's jokes. Needless to say, she was totally charmed by his antiquated sensibilities. After they bonded over a mutual fondness for Citizen Kane – a film which Steve had been exposed to thanks to an attempt by the American government to boost troop morale. They then launched into a spirited discussion about film. Amira got caught up mooning about some of her favorite science fiction movies when – much to her surprise – she was honored with having one of her own personal favorite movies added to his zeitgeist notebook. She promised him he would enjoy Blade Runner unequivocally.

Bruce had disappeared since they parted ways after the tense meeting in the board room. As Tony had lead her through his famed Research and Development sector, she saw him hunched over a notepad. He was alternating between furiously scribbling notes and surveying various scientific contraptions that buzzed and whirred beside him. He actually looked comfortable, for once. It kind of felt like seeing a wild animal in it's natural habitat. The thought made Amira chuckle. Of course, he was far too absorbed in his work to notice her passing, despite the hallway being completely visible through the glass walls. She was glad he didn't see her – that they didn't make eye contact. The intensity of his gaze during their discussion made Amira uneasy. Though he acted with unattached indifference, she suspected there was little about that man that wasn't totally intense.

Aaron texted her a picture of the hangar and airfield he would be inhabiting for the foreseeable future. He was over the moon, it would seem. There were dozens of different aircraft for him to tinker with all day. They talked back and forth about eachothers eventful day. One of his texts included was a selfie next to a sleek new quin jet.

Darla, he called her.

Amira couldn't be sad about anything if Aaron was happy.

The evening had set in and Amira was completely drained. Her feet were killing her and her eyes watered and stung with exhaustion. Thankfully, she was being shown to her new quarters by one of Tony's assistants. She would get a chance to change into some comfortable clothes! The girl's name was Melissa – or something to that effect. Amira wasn't really listening, she was practically an animated corpse shuffling behind the pert young blonde as she shunt her down the quiet little hallway, chirping away about "amenities" this and "next gen features" that.

When they finally arrived at _her_ door Amira's heart leaped with anticipation. She would have her very own room with her very own bed, not some sunken in, sad hot-bunk. After reciting the usual pleasantries, the pixie-like girl swung the door open for her and presented her with a key card. Amira murmured a bleary thank you and stepped into her room. She could hear the woman's heels clip-clop hurriedly away. Amira's jaw dropped.

It looked like it came from the same interior decorating magazine that the lounge had. It was a generously sized studio apartment complete with a large, plush looking bed and a modest little work desk. There was a partitioned area where a cream sofa was nestled around a rectangular glass coffee table. Hues of red and honey lent the space a very mature and homey feel. In a daze and looking all around, Amira almost lost balance trying to remove her heels. The flecked tile beneath her feet felt cool and clean. She padded softly over to the floor to ceiling windows across from the door. This was now _her_ space. She hadn't had anything like this in, well, ever! She never got to have her own room as a child – she had to share hers with her twerpy kid brother due to the cramped nature of growing up in Brooklyn.

At the Xavier Institute she always had dorm mates. She went straight from school into S.H.I.E.L.D. where – for basic training – she was filed immediately into a huge, odorous bunk room. And it went a whole lot like that until this very moment. As she stared out onto the city she gently loosened her braid and worked her fingers through her dark curls. Satisfied, stepped away from the window to face her bed, which she quickly flopped into, face down; like a cake dropped from great height. It was heavenly. Her eyes heavily shut and she was fully prepared for the reality that she may fall asleep without a change or a shower.

"Pardon me, Miss Mizrahi." The stilted English accent belonging to JARVIS cracked her serenity wide open. Apparently, she did not have the privacy that she previously thought she had. Not bothering to lift her head out of her fluffy bedclothes she responded.

"Yes, JARVIS?" She replied, trying to dial back the disappointment in her voice which made her end up sounding a little too excited.

"Tony has requested your presence in his office." He graciously informed her.

"Which floor?" Amira groaned and willed her fatigued body to carry her to the walk-in closet by the bathroom, which she hadn't even got a chance to peek into.

"The 68th, ma'am. I can give you further instruction when you arrive there."

She brusquely thanked him. Soon, she had found what few articles of clothing she own stowed lovingly within her new closet, which smelled faintly of new drywall and lumber. Sitting below the hanging apparel was a pair of scuffed black boots. The tread was thick and jagged but the material allowed for stealth as well as utility. She looked at them longingly but – due to the necessity of maintaining decorum – she was forced to select the plain black flats that lay beside them. Not bothering to fiddle with her appearance, she stumbled out of her room and prayed that she could remember where the elevator was.

* * *

When she found him he was sitting at the top of a ladder very precisely folding a piece of paper in his lap. He waited until he had finished the last crease to look at her. With a flick of his wrist he propelled it into flight. She watched, having not yet crossed the threshold of his office, as his finely crafted paper airplane swooped down from his elevated point on the ladder and came to a soft landing, where it whispered across the floor and came to a stop at her toes. She bent down to pick it up as Tony plucked another piece of paper out of his stack and began anew. There were a dozen or so different styles of paper airplane piled around the edges of the room.

"Never did get that demonstration." He drawled as he worked. Amira examined the paper airplane in her open palms as she crossed to his desk, where she reverently set it down.

"I could give you one now, if you like." She offered. "I can make it quick, it seems like you're pretty busy with-" Another paper airplane loosed. This one sailed into the wall, none-too-gently. "-what you have going on here."

"We all have our own methods of working out demons." He remarked. His hair looked somehow blacker, and his skin paler in the harsh lighting. "Mine just happens to involve wasting lots and lots of paper." With these words, he made his way down the ladder and dismounted with a hop at the last step. He sidled up to face her. "You know, if my friends at the World Land Trust knew about this, they would have a fit. They wouldn't stop taking my money but they would have a fit." Amira clicked her tongue against her teeth and shook her head.

"Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Stark." She replied, her arms crossed. "Now, look at me." He cocked his head suspiciously.

"Okay, we talked about the 'Mr.' thing, drop it. Now, are you using your Jedi mind tricks on me?" He quipped. He was a good quipper. Amira laughed, lightly and purely.

"Not yet. Just look at me."

He was obviously quite skeptical, she could tell by the way that he watched her. His arms were crossed and his eyes were narrowed. Suddenly, his demeanor changed. He uncrossed his arms and held them out, looking left and right, confounded. Amira smiled to herself and waved a hand in front of his face.

"What am I- what just happened?" He sounded perturbed that he wasn't able to figure out her sleight of hand.

"Don't feel bad." She cooed, familiar enough with Tony to engage in a little friendly teasing. Now she was sitting at the top of the ladder. His body twisted at the sound to find her. He turned back to where she was standing thirty seconds ago and then back to her. Amira began folding her own paper airplane. "I haven't met anyone who could see past it- except for Fury, an anomaly I haven't been able to sort out." She explained. Tony stared as she amateurishly bent the white paper, her pink tongue sticking slightly out in concentration.

"So it's just invisibility? What about the whole _awareness manipulation_ thing" Tony stated, sounding a little let down. "I don't _feel_ very manipulated. And I'll have you know, I have been manipulated by hundreds of women, so believe me, I would know if it had happened or not"

"Depends on your perspective. Do you remember the exact moment that you lost track of me?" She inquired softly. Tony opened his mouth to speak but could only quietly choke on his confusion. Amira didn't help him. She figured he was the type who liked to solve riddles on his own, without hints. His eyebrows relaxed from their former puzzled orientation. He snapped and pointed an accusatory finger at her.

"Pepper!" Tony barked, Amira jumped. "I was looking at you and then I started thinking about modifying my Bolt Cannon to have fifteen times the energy output and then I heard Pepper's voice in my head telling me to stop endangering the public with my wild ideas." He blurted out all at once. She gazed down at him, eyes wide, running her hand over a crease over and over. "And then you were gone." He flexed his fingers before her, imitating a magician's fancy flourishes.

"A virus!" He gushed. He cocked his head and stroked his chin, speaking rapidly. "Is it a virus? Something- something like it!" Tony grinned up at her. "That's it. You find the exploit in the system – I took my focus off of you for one second. You slip in between the cracks." He resumed pointing at her. Amira smirked.

"It's not just limited to myself. I can make anyone disappear, provided you aren't paying attention. I'm the only one of my kind, as far as I know." She explained. Then, brandished her complete – albeit crudely made – paper airplane.

"You control who and what the Hulk sees. If he can't see anyone, he can't hurt anyone." Tony sighed.

"Bingo." She grinned. Very audaciously, she launched the little glider into the air. Immediately, it tanked spectacularly, crashing into the floor. Her heart broke at the crinkling splash.

"Wow." Tony whistled and shook his head.

"Yeah, it would have been a lot cooler if the plane didn't...suck." She scratched the back of her head and laughed at the ruined moment.

"Well, hey, my first one wasn't perfect – it was better than that – but it wasn't perfect."

"I can see why you like doing it. I feel totally de-stressed!" She commented as she hopped down from the ladder. Tony had plopped down in his desk chair.

"Speaking of relieving tension, I have a huge favor to ask you." Tony said. Amira raised her eyebrows. Tony swayed from right to left in his swivelly office chair as he processed the silence.

"Do you want to try that agai-" Amira was cut off immediately by Tony.

"Yes. Yes. I would definitely like to rephrase that. Wow." Tony steepled his fingers and touched them to his lips. Amira stifled a laugh. "I didn't ask you in here just for the demonstration. Tomorrow, we are heading out to a little facility of mine in upstate New York to give the Halo cuffs a test drive." Amira's heart jumped painfully and she felt sick. She was not ready to face off with Bruce's Mr. Hyde. Tony, sensing her distress, assuaged her fears.

"We're not going to full Monty yet, relax. I just want to talk to you about-" Tony rubbed his hands together and sighed, collecting his thoughts. "Bruce is a difficult little rascal but I know he wants to try and make this work. Maybe you could track the big guy down and have a chat with him; get to know him a little." Amira faltered at his request. Her shoes were suddenly of the keenest interest.

"I- I don't know. I get the distinct feeling that I'm the last person he wants to see right now." She murmured, looking down still.

"All he knows about you is that you're an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. operative who is working for – forgive me – a guy who doesn't have the best track record for being forthright about his plans." Amira snorted at this and pushed away her displeasure at being treated so suspiciously. Tony was leaning back in his chair speaking matter-of-factly. He clearly wasn't trying to hurt her feelings. "People like you have been making his life a living hell for years." It was a little hard to ignore the sting of that blow. She was a spy, not Satan himself.

"Fury didn't send me here to harass Dr. Banner." She snipped despite herself. She winced as soon as she realized her tone was a little more impatient then she intended. Tony reassessed her, his features impassive.

"And do you think Bruce will just take your word for that?" He replied in the tone a teacher might adopt. "Look, I believe you. _He_ will need some convincing. He just wants to be the Hulk less and do science more. Give him some peace of mind." Tony stood up from his chair and unwound his limbs in a tremendous stretch.

"Where would I even find him at this hour? It's past 7 o'clock, surely he's retired for the night." She sighed. _She_ wanted to retire for the night. The change into flats only soothed her legs for so long, now she felt annoyed and anxious even though she knew Tony was right. She had to work closely with Bruce starting tomorrow and indefinitely. Tony smiled and bit his lip.

"No, you see, he'd be mad at me if I told you." Tony explained as he walked toward his ladder. "So what I'll say is this: I can neither confirm nor deny that he may or may not be in the lounge. Possibly." He climbed the steps deftly and replaced himself atop his perch.

"The one we talked in this morning?" She stuttered. She wasn't ready to be exposed to Bruce's snark. She was too vulnerable in her exhausted state.

"Do you remember which floor?" Amira nodded. Her memory for details was impeccable, a side effect of her training. "Go on. Get out of here, you little scamp."

"Sir." White hot blood crept up her neck and rushed to face as soon as she uttered the word. Tony looked impressed and put a hand to his heart as if he were touched. Amira lowered her salute and stuttered. "Force of habit."

"I'm flattered, but be at ease, soldier." She exhaled a laugh and turned to leave in search of the elusive Bruce Banner.

* * *

Bruce was leaning against the railing of the dimly lit, shallow outcropping on the side of Stark Tower. He patiently waited for his tea to cool while he watched the pale watery sky darken in the wake of the sunset. After enjoying some fresh air he would go back to his lab and work into the early morning, of course, but the room had become too stifling. Too cramped. He had hurriedly left and brewed something with chamomile in it to calm himself. Tony had informed him a few hours earlier that they were heading out very soon to test Halo. Tomorrow, soon. This set his nerves ablaze and he had been in a fit of discomfort ever since.

The perpetual music of sirens and honking horns had come to bring him peace. It was rarely quiet in India, as well. He closed his eyes and practiced breathing slowly and evenly. After awhile he realized it was no use. On a normal day, Bruce Banner was an abnormally disquieted man. On _this_ day, he was totally unwound. He had to work with one of Fury's subordinates, which made him just a little _angry,_ and the unbelievable irony was that the only one to ask him how he felt about moving forward was the agent herself. At the risk of her own job, no less. This was an absolute fluke compared to his experiences with people in her line of work. Even Natasha was still a ruthless operative, just not in his direction, thankfully.

Bruce jumped at the sudden clanging of metal. He turned to see the 'dog of war' he had just been pondering failing to gain access to the balcony. She pushed valiantly against the door and was struck with a very amusing look when she realized Bruce was watching her through the glass.

"You pull it. The door." Bruce instructed while miming the gesture. He was supposed to rely on this woman if he ever had an _accident_. She was an idiot, apparently. He fought the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. Amira gave the door an experimental pull and sheepishly tip toed out into the space. Even in the low light he could see she was bright red.

"Don't you hate it when that happens?" She stuttered, jabbing her thumb behind her and shaking her head. She was still wearing her black dress but had, apparently, ditched the blazer – a decision he suspected she would come to regret as it was quite cool outside. Her stockings, he noticed, had a fresh run creeping down her thigh. He belatedly raised his eyebrows at her statement.

"I don't think I can relate." He roughly replied, intending his tone to be a warning. He wanted her to vacate his space. She was either ignoring him or too dense to notice this because instead of leaving she simply wrinkled her nose, laughed, and trotted up to stand beside him, likewise leaning on the railing.

"Nice view." She chirped. After a moment she cocked her head and contorted her lips, contemplatively. Bruce, defeated, stared into his swirling drink. "Can't see the stars, though." She remarked, soberly looking into the sky. The luminescence of the city below choked out the stars, leaving their ethereal little lights dim or dead. Bruce said nothing. He tracked her gaze up into the heavens. Her hair – colored richly like damp earth – was wild and unbound around her face. Shadows were still and delicate across her cheeks. His breath caught in his throat; he fervently wished for her to leave now.

"In Libya, I'd have to sit in the dirt, prone for hours just observing Hydra convoy movements." She turned her head to regale him, her eyes conspiratorial. "Sometimes, I would flip on my back and try to count the stars. I could never count them all, of course. Once, I even fell asleep." Her gaze went, once again, upward. Bruce found his words.

"I'm glad to know I'm in such capable hands." He bit, humorlessly. Her little smile faded and her dusky eyes fell from the edge of the atmosphere to his face. Bruce winced, guilt bleeding into his irritation. She wasn't playing games with him, he realized. She was just trying to be nice. "I didn't mean-" He stammered, struggling to finish the apology. It felt so unfair. He wanted to be mean to her but she made it very hard.

"I'm glad we have a moment alone to talk, actually." She murmured quietly from behind the curtain of her curls.

"Actually, I was just having a moment alone. You're the one who decided to make it a moment alone _to talk_." He retorted, allowing a touch of warmth to seep into his cynical little jest. Much to his relief and satisfaction, she relinquished a small laugh. Apparently, Amira was quick to forgive. He glanced at her once more and she appeared to be thinking very hard about what to say next.

"Did Tony put you up to this?" He sighed. She was rigid and her eyes reflected the full moon that night with their impossible roundness.

"What? Uh- No." She acted with false incredulity. Bruce fought a smile. "No, I was just- I had thought that-" She sputtered wringing her hands and peering at just about everything except for Bruce. He shook his head and an imperceptible smirk played on his lips.

"I thought spies were supposed to be good liars." At this, Amira sighed and bowed her head.

"I guess I've come to rely on my abilities. You don't have to lie to someone who doesn't know you're there." She confessed. Her fingers raked through her hair, sweeping it back. She hummed a sigh and parted her lips to speak. "You know, I meant what I said today," Bruce's eyes narrowed and his eyebrows knit, "about it being an honor to meet you. I wasn't just kissing your ass." His eyebrows shot up at her frankness.

"Oh?" He croaked, not wanting to reveal his lust for her explanation.

"I mean, I had the decency to at least do a cursory google search of your achievements." She playfully rolled her eyes at him. "I read your dissertation on cancer cell reduction through the use of gamma radiation." He was impressed and he hesitantly allowed her to know that by way of his close-mouthed grin.

"You read it? All of it?"

"It was a long flight." She shrugged. "Pretty inspiring stuff though." Bruce chuckled at this but his laughter was swollen with something dark.

"That paper got me my position at Desert Base." He said bitterly. "I was quite the idealist back then." The spectrum of lights before them reflected off of his glasses, distorting them into a flashing and swirling mosaic. He looked listless and sad as he watched the now chilled tea slosh in his mug. Amira's eyes held a sort of pent up desire to act in some way, he could tell. He had been given that look many a time by people pondering on the hopelessness of what he truly was. He took it upon himself to answer her unasked question.

 _How did it happen?_

"If they had let me continue my research on the medical applications of gamma radiation we may have never met." He rasped. His voice like a rope that had been stretched past it's limits.

 _"You would be married. Happy. Human."_ He reminded himself. He shook his head and cursed. _"Push it down. Push it down."_ He couldn't be sane if he allowed himself to linger on his regret.

"But my research wasn't earning them anything. I let myself give up. I kowtowed to their demands for me to move into weapons research." He scratched his chin and continued. "I built a really big bomb. The kind that could wipe an entire city off of the map and leave no trace. We were testing it and..." He never liked to tell this part of the story. When he tried to recall what happened all he could retrieve was a brief sequence of seering white light and pain that ripped him apart. He felt something akin to it every time he changed.

"The rest is history?" She finished, her voice a shred of a whisper. He nodded.

"The rest is history." He repeated. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was always toying with her hair, it seemed to him. She cleared her throat.

"I can see why you have trust issues." Amira remarked. Bruce willed himself to be offended at her comment but he wasn't inclined to fool himself. She was right. And as long as she wasn't trying to simper her apologies at him he was content.

"Is it that obvious?" He joked, trying to relieve the tension. Thankfully, she cracked a smile and when he saw it, to his surprise, he smiled too. They stood staring at one another. Both leaning against the railing and neither knowing what to say. Amira ran a hand over her arm, which was only protected by the cap sleeve of her dress. Bruce could spot the gooseflesh there. It was just as he had predicted.

"You're cold?" His remark was somewhere between a question and an acknowledgment.

"A little."

He took two steps to the door and opened it, beckoning her to follow. The warmth of the building enveloped them and he felt suddenly very sleepy. His work could wait. The weighty conversation they had just had made Bruce feel strange. He set his mug down -it's contents untouched – on the bar of the lounge and cleared his throat.

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night." He stiffly informed the other occupant of the room. Amira had taken the few steps up to the table where they had all met and was curiously examining the white lilies in the vase.

"Good idea." Came the distracted reply. She straightened herself out and joined Dr. Banner. He pressed the button and they waited in silence. Amira continued to will warmth back into her extremities by rubbing them up and down. Bruce watched her and found himself wishing that she was taking a different elevator down, despite the cathartic conversation they shared.

When, at last, the lift came they both stepped in succinctly.

"Which floor?" He asked, glancing down at her.

"Seventy-secondth." She chirped.

"Huh." He pondered outloud, eyebrows quizzical.

"Something wrong?" He pressed the button.

"Same as mine." He intoned. The doors of the elevator shut.

* * *

It wasn't as if there were very many floors dedicated to guest housing. No, in fact there were five floors. Not many at all, or was it actually quite a lot for this kind of building? He didn't know but it did strike Bruce as an odd coincidence that they were on the same floor. Amira walked beside him down the hall, struggling to keep up with his long strides. The run in her stocking, he observed, had progressed from her thigh down to her knee. This irritated him somehow. Why hadn't she found her room yet?

"Well, this is me." She stood in front of her door. Bruce nodded with wry realization as she procured her key card from the small sewn in pocket of her dress. "Thanks for walking me to my door." She teased.

"Thanks for walking me to _mine_." He smoothly replied, finding his own keycard and turning to the door just across from hers. Her nose crinkled like it had before and a smile gathered at the corners of her mouth. Bruce's distress flared at her habitual nose crinkling.

"Oh, we're neighbors." She cheered. "I guess it makes sense that we are arranged this closely" She voiced what Bruce had put together minutes before. He cursed Tony.

"I suppose so." He croaked out of politeness. His card slid through the reader and the lock clicked.

"Good night, Dr. Banner." She offered.

"Call me Bruce." He said, more to his door than to her.

"Good night, Bruce." He turned his head and there she stood, looking sincere with her wild hair.

"Good night, Amira." He replied. Then he stepped into his room and shut the door soundly behind him, relieved.

* * *

 **I hope you liked their little talk. Until next week.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I hope you guys like this chapter. Things are progressing faster then I thought they would. I sometimes feel very helpless, as I worry that I am failing at writing Bruce. Maybe you guys can give me some tips haha. Enjoy.**

 **I have some fanart for Amira as drawn by myself and my talented little cousin. Can anyone pm me for the best way to get that to you guys? Ffnet doesn't allow links to anything. If you want to see it, look for this story on AO3. Same username, same title. It will be attached to chapter eight.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Marvels.**

* * *

Chapter Eight - The Lightning Bolts Dance

"So? Tell me how it was! You barely said anything in your texts." Aaron whispered as he hurriedly pulled her aside. His quin jet idly roared on the helipad as Tony argued with his underlings about how his equipment was being loaded aboard it. Steve stood by looking bored, his well muscled arms crossed, threatening to rip his short shirt sleeves to shreds. Bruce was just stepping out onto the helipad looking professorial in a tweed jacket.

"I mean- It went okay." She coyly replied, fighting the urge to absolutely grin when she thought of Steve Rogers enthusiastically adding her movie recommendation to his notebook. "But what about you? New flightsuit! New ride! Lookin' good." She cried. Aaron grabbed the collar of his suit with both hands and did his best impression of a stoic war hero. Amira swatted his arm and they both giggled like children. After enjoying a mirthful fraternal moment Aaron sighed and removed his sunglasses and gave her a knowing look. She withdrew her hands into the sleaves of her blue hoodie.

"'Mira, I know you think complimenting me is going to get you out of telling me about yesterday." Amira immediately deflated. For a moment, she comtemplated looking indignant but she knew it was no use. "It wasn't horrible was it?" He asked.

"It was obviously a crazy experience." She relented. "These are the people that saved our planet." She shrugged and opened her mouth, though she was unable to add any other details.

"Well, I can see you are already comfortable enough around them to wear your _grody_ sweats around the tower." He pointed to her worn gray workout sweatpants. She smacked his hand away, looking justifiably indignant now.

"They are for utility not looks, Aaron. You would understand that if you ever tried to do a proper arm bar in seersucker." She hissed. Aaron reeled back in disgust.

"Amira, don't be obscene. I would never wear seersucker this early in Spring." Came the aristocratic reply

"Oh my _God_." She gagged. "Who raised you?"

"You." He smirked at her.

"Then I am truly sorry."

"Don't be. I came out amazing."

As Amira was about to argue the contrary when Tony swaggered up to them. She could smell the rich leather of his jacket mingling with his cologne which was, no doubt, very expensive.

"Hey, Top Gun." Said Tony, more ordering than greeting. Aaron pointed to himself, his expression questioning. "Yes, you. Can you fly that thing smoothly?" The rakish pilot allowed a cocky smile to compliment his features.

"Yes, sir."

"There are a lot of my favorite toys on board. They are very finely tuned and _very_ expensive." Tony gave him a pointed look, his head forward and his eyes up.

"Aaron could fly a balsa wood glider through a hurricane." Amira begrudgingly admitted. Aaron's head didn't need to swell anymore but she had to give credit where credit was due. He beamed at her praise and raised a hand as if to say 'you heard the lady.'

"Excellent!" Tony hollered. And with that he bat the chassis of the quin jet twice. Aaron cringed. "Let's get this party started!" He pulled his Bono-esque sunglasses out of his shirt collar and wore them as if they were made for his face. Amira contemplated the possibility that they may _have_ actually been made for his face. Aaron gave her an excited eyebrow wiggle and then swung himself up into the cockpit. Amira turned to grab her duffel bag but was hindered when she collided with Bruce Banner.

"Good morning." He said, surprised by her clumsy greeting.

"Good morning to you. Sorry about that." She brightly replied as she circumvented him to grab her bag.

"No harm done." He intoned as he smoothed down the front of the crisp pale blue shirt beneath his jacket. He looked exhausted but Amira thought that the dissheveled look worked greatly in his favor. His hair was not outrageously out of sorts but it had appeared to have been run through with his hands over and over. They stood before eachother and Bruce appeared to have something on his mind but he wouldn't betray his thoughts with a single word. The moment became awkward.

"Are you ready?" Amira asked, more playful that challenging.

"Are you?" Bruce countered. Amira cocked her head. Now _there_ was a challenge issued.

"You don't seem to think so." She retorted, her tone mischievious. She had decided to experiment with calling him out on his sarcasm.

"No offense, Amira," He looked around, a smirk folding the corners of his mouth, "but no one has ever been ready for this mess." He gestured to himself. She looked puzzled.

"Tony said we weren't going the full Monty." She exclaimed. Bruce scoffed and opened his mouth to speak but before he could say a word the aforementioned genius's head darted out of the back of the quin jet.

"Hey! Are you two going to sit there and girl talk all day or are you going to get in?" Tony shouted over the thunderous engine sound. Amira blushed. Bruce gave her a double take.

"Can I get that for you?" He stuttered, pointing to her duffel bag. She shook her head.

"No thanks. I got it." Amira, used to helping herself, thought nothing of her refusal. Bruce thought nothing of it as well, apparently. He just shrugged and gestured for her to lead on. She traipsed up the ramp and into the interior. The inside was dark and welcoming to someone like Amira, who had lived been mothered by the military for all of her adult life. The fuselage was steel-ribbed and lined with eight seats – four on each side. The floor hummed beneath her feet and she inhaled deeply the signature smell of oil and gunmetal. The combination of these things always put Amira on edge in an incredible, almost sensuous way. It was like sharpening one's blade before mortal combat and she loved it.

"Hey, kid." Clint's voice shook her loose of her reverie. She reciprocated his greeting with a grin and an exclamation of surprise. "D'you miss Libya yet?" He joked and gave her a good-natured cuff on the arm. He had those warm crinkling eyes and genuine smile he wore without care for his reputation for being an expert killer.

"Oh _yes_ , Clint. _Especially_ the biting gadflies." She replied, very obviously glad to be back in New York. She'd traversed across the Middle East, the Balkans, and North Africa for years without ever setting foot back in America. They congenially traded information about how the efforts in Africa were going until Clint had to excuse himself to the cockpit. Before she found her own seat she exchanged a civil, if not terse, greeting with Natasha who lounged in her spot and surveyed all with her feline gaze.

Amira hefted her bag into the trough-like compartment behind her chosen seat. Satisfied with it's arrangement, she sat and harnessed herself in. The aircraft growled with life anew as the engines were revved and tested for flight. She was seated between Dr. Banner and a large impossibly complex looking contraption which had been, quite comically, buckled into the spot next to hers. She looked at it and then looked around the cockpit to see if anyone else was as baffled as she about the oddity next to her. She turned to Bruce, who looked like he might pull out a flask to take a beleaguered sip from at any moment.

He noticed she was looking at him and he met her attention, seemingly confounded and slightly offended all at once when he discovered she was staring at him. She raised her eyebrows and tried to inconspicuously point at the machine lovingly fastened into the seat next to her. Bruce looked over her at the object in question.

"What is that." Amira whispered.

"I have no idea." He replied, also somewhat interested. "Probably some of the equipment that Tony wanted transported upstate."

"Or, like, maybe it's just a _huge_ phone charger." She drolly joked.

"Hm, I don't think that's it." He responded dryly.

"-with a compartment for little martinis in the side, for if you have a low battery but you're also an alcoholic." She continued. When she looked back over at Bruce, he was smiling at her. It was a smile she had seen him wear repeatedly and she wasn't sure if it was mocking or genuine. He leaned over her slightly to get a closer look at the gadget.

"Actually," Bruce piped up, "I think it's some kind of compact storage ring – a type of particle accelerator." Amira snickered at his absurd suggestion but balked when she realized he wasn't kidding.

"Oh, you're serious!" She blurted. He nodded. "Is it safe?"

"Well, it's buckled in so-"

"No, I mean _me_. Am I safe sitting next to this thing?" He face was still adorned with that perplexing smile.

"That _thing_ is technically capable of emitting electromagnetic radiation." He explained. Amira looked at the offending appliance in mild horror.

"But it needs a significant amount of power to function so you're probably fine." He finished.

"Oh." She replied, a long and drawn out realization as if she now understood the whole of nuclear physicism. "I feel _much_ better now, thanks."

Amira liked to play it safe, however. She elected to scoot as far away from the particle accelerator as her harness would allow, just in case there were any left over electromagnetic waves waiting in there to irradiate her, or _whatever_ they did. She was now torturously uncomfortable. Thankfully, the flight would be brief.

* * *

The seven of them – Steve, Tony, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Aaron, and Amira – trudged away from the quin jet and towards the warehouse before them. A few employees in cover-alls sprinted over to retrieve the Tony's equipment. The sky seemed lower in this place. There were no great skyscrapers to hold it up, so it draped itself just over the trees. The facility itself was inconspicuous. A great white rectangular structure in a large clearing, with the usual Stark particulars – a chrome truss support here and some overly gigantic plate windows there. Tony guided them all to the doors which were, contrastly, small and low profile.

The interior of the warehouse as Amira expected it would be; sparsely decorated with old inventions and craftworks. On one side, the wall, which was entirely glass, was covered with massive metal shudders. Slivers of light washed through the cracks and speckled the floor. The rest of the room was cloaked in darkness. Tony strode over to a metal box fastened to the wall and flipped the large switch on the side. One by one, a dozen massive fluorescent lights flickered on and bathed the room in an icy hue. At the far end of the room there was an array of monitors and a control panel. Next to it, a huge, seemingly pointless object in the shape of a cube.

"Welcome. Make yourselves comfortable." Tony spoke. The Avengers crew followed Tony over to the control panel on the far side of the giant room. Bruce, carrying a hardcase, joined Tony at the helm of the it. Steve and Clint strode over to a few lonely looking lounge chairs and sat to chat quietly. Everyone was acting all 'business as usual'. Meanwhile, Aaron and Amira had no idea what was going on.

"Okay, I'll bite. What is it?" Amira broke the silence and gestured to the giant structure. Her voice was louder than she had expected it would be in the spacious room.

"This," Tony began, as he played his fingers at his work screen, "Is where we will be testing the Halo Cuffs. I thought we discussed this with you."

"I think she means the cage." Bruce murmured next to him, his voice gruff.

"The cage?" Amira squeaked.

"Dr. Banner and I have been trying to develop a Hulk proof containment unit." Tony explained. "Of course, we haven't tested it until _today_ but I-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Amira cut in, putting her hands up in almost a defensive manner. "I thought you said we weren't going the full Monty."

"Well, it's not the full Monty if he's in a containment unit, is it? That doesn't count." He reasoned, as if it were obvious. "Are you not ready for this?" Tony asked. Amira reeled and looked to Aaron, who gave her a purposeful look.

"N-no I mean- Look, I'm ready. I was just taken by surprise." She stuttered. Her breath was shaky but she wouldn't let them know it.

"Good. Feel free to find something to entertain yourself with. Bruce and I have to make some last-minute calibrations." Tony said, hunched over the buttons and switches.

"How long is it going to take?" Inquired Natasha from behind Aaron and Amira.

"It could be an hour- maybe more." Tony replied.

"Mizrahi." The Black Widow enunciated. Amira turned to her, at attention. Natasha let a viperous smile split her visage. "Come with me." Amira nodded, half afraid and half thrilled, and followed. She knew what that tone in the redhead's voice meant. It meant Amira was going to get her ass kicked.

* * *

"Now that you're on the team things might be more strenuous." Natasha began as she led Amira to a patch of even ground. "You're still sloppy, Mizrahi." Amira frowned and dropped her duffel bag on the grass.

"We don't have any gear, how are we supposed to train?" Amira asked as she knelt down to unzip her bag.

"We'll keep it simple with some sparring." She replied, unzipping her catsuit down the front, revealing her gray sports bra and shorts. Her skin was milk white and her stomach finely muscled. Amira looked up at her in disbelief as she rolled a handwrap around her wrist.

"We don't have head protection, Natasha."

"And you won't have it a real engagement. Stop being a girl about it and fight me." Natasha replied as she stepped out of her signature black suit.

Amira followed her lead, shrugging out of her hoodie. She wore a very simple black spandex tank top underneath it. She pulled a pair of olive drab canvas shorts out of her bag and held them under her arm as she peeled off her sweats. Her squeamishness for nudity had long gone during her career as an operative and she stood, unabashedly, in the middle of the clearing in only a tank top and panties. The shorts were pulled into place soon enough, however, and she felt exhilarated having dressed for battle.

"No holds barred." Natasha grunted as she fell into stance.

"Well, I mean, I'll try not to seriously maim or injure you." Amira shot back, hoping her overconfidence would outpace her lack of skill in comparison to Natasha.

"I'd like to see you try." And on the last word she lunged at Amira. The two clashed in a spectacle of beautiful violence. Of course, Amira realized that Natasha wasn't actually going to try to hurt her. But, as far as a spar went, it was pretty extreme in it's intensity. Amira could barely keep up with the other woman's speed and tenacity. Every time Natasha managed to best her, she would call out the killing blow.

When she swept her feet out from under her and pressed her forearm into Amira's throat: "Too slow. I asphyxiate you."

When she crawled up Amira like a vine, toppling her, and wrapped her thighs around the small woman's head: "Too slow. I break your neck."

When she Judo threw Amira to the ground: "Too slow. I fracture your skull with my boot."

Amira got up after being knocked down several times. Her body felt like it have been run through a grinding mill. There were grass stains and fresh bruises coloring her skin. She wouldn't quit, though. These training sessions never ended until Natasha said so, anyway. Amira rolled her head and shoulders and raised her fists one more time.

* * *

"Ouch." Steve winced as Amira was knocked to the ground once more. The metal shade covering the gigantic plate glass had been lifted and Steve, Clint, and Aaron had amused themselves for some time watching the two women thrash each other.

"Yeah, the kid's getting' worked." Clint declared as he crossed his arms.

"I _have_ to root for her – she's my sister – but she isn't making it easy." Aaron commented.

"Steve would know all about that kind of thing, he's a Mets fan." Clint taunted.

"Watch it, Barton." The Captain warned. Tony and Bruce strolled over to join them.

"What are you guys- damn! Wow, _I_ felt that." Tony yowled. Amira had been thrown into the dirt and twisted into an arm bar. "Why didn't you say there was a fight sooner? I always want to watch a fight." He continued, whining.

"Is she going to be able to walk after that?" asked Bruce.

"She'll be fine. Nat's not hitting her hard." Clint answered.

"Y'know, I've seen girls fight before. Well, it was more like wrestling. And it was in an inflatable pool full of Dom Perignon." Tony idly mused. Amira delivered a mean blow to Natasha's solar plexus. "This is nothing like that, though." He concluded.

"Are we ready to get started, by the way?" Aaron inquired of Bruce.

"Yeah, yeah. We could put that off and just watch this until one of them passes out." Tony took the liberty of answering for him.

"Well, I'm going to rain on everyone's parade and save my sister from further abuse." Audible groans of disappointment erupted from Clint and Tony.

* * *

After dodging a flurry of fists and flying elbows from Natasha, Amira kicked on her mutant powers. She refused to go this whole fight without knocking Natasha down at least once. With her mental tendrils she probed for a weak spot in Natasha's focus, but the woman's mind was a veritable bastille. She blocked a kick from the Widow with her forearm and retaliated by grabbing her leg and using her body weight to twist them both into the dirt.

There was the gap.

Amira felt Natasha's concentration break when her body thumped into the ground. And then she was gone. The redhead smirked with realization.

"That isn't very fair." She crooned in a sing song voice. As soon as the words left her mouth she was tackled from behind and forced into a skillful submission hold.

"You did say it was supposed to be like a real fight." Amira panted from her perch on Natasha's back. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and allowed herself to feel triumphant for a moment.

"Alright, alright. You can get off me now." Natasha groaned. "You sure are heavy for someone so small." Amira rolled off of her and reclined in the grass, her hands behind her, supporting her.

The two women looked up when they heard Tony Stark slow-clapping. He approached with the rest of the team following.

"Ladies, that was really something." He dramatically announced. "It was both sexy and terrifying."

"Is that you offering to go next?" Natasha said, her eyes flashing. Tony recoiled. Amira laughed at her threat. Natasha pretty much embodied sexy and terrifying.

"God, no. I need my face in tact, thank you." He said. "Besides, I get all the ass-kicking I need from Pepper."

"You're getting better." Aaron said as he offered his sister a hand up from her sitting position.

"You think so? I don't _feel_ like I've gotten better. I _feel_ like I've been trampled by a pissed off horse." She retorted as he helped her up.

"I think that's what progress feels like." He joked. "Come on inside, I think we're ready to get this show on the road."

* * *

She was standing before the containment unit, sizing it up, when Bruce approached her with a bottle of water and a towel. She thanked him quietly and slung the towel over her shoulder and opened the water with a _crack._ With a moan, she savored the cool liquid and let it soothe her dry throat. Her body was sore and bruised and it felt like an accomplishment. She brandished the towel and wiped at her dirt smeared face as she contemplated the mammoth cage.

"It'll probably hold up." Bruce murmured. "It's lined with Adamantium." Amira choked on a mouthful of water. Bruce eyed her as she struggled to swallow. She pounded on her chest with a fist and coughed a few times before looking at him, shocked.

"How thick?" She asked, in disbelief.

"Two and a half inches."

"Holy hell." She croaked. "That can not have been cheap."

"No kidding." He rubbed his hands together, seemingly with nothing more to say. "Oh." He dug into his jacket pocket and retrieved her Halo. She took it and turned it over in her hand. It felt solid and well made. Embossed in the exterior was her first name. "The data collected is specific to both of us. Now we won't lose track of which one is which." She raised her eyebrows, impressed. She slipped it around her wrist and fastened the clasp, letting the side with the inlaid square rest on her outer wrist. It felt odd, and ill-fitting on her arm.

"The read-out goes on the other side." He raised his own arm for her perusal. The side with the inlaid square rested on the flesh of his wrist, beneath his palm. She unclasped her own cuff and set it right on her arm. It felt perfect, like it was apart of her. Her lips parted and her brow furrowed as she noticed the strange sensation the cuff gave her. Very faintly, just under the square 'read-out' she could feel a tiny electrical twinge on the tender skin of her wrist. It such a gentle pulsation that she hardly noticed it if she didn't think about it. Slowly, rhythmically, it beat against her. She brought the bracelet up to her ear in an attempt to sort out the source of the feeling.

"Oh good. You feel it. I guess that means everything is functioning properly." He said, sounding more tired than ever.

"What is it?" She marveled, continuing to investigate the cuff.

"It's my pulse. Over two hundred beats per minute and the feeling will be more intense. It's supposed to give you a jump on things if I start to lose it. Advance warning." He enunciated.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy that would appreciate any breach of privacy, even in regards to something as insignificant as your heart rate." She stated lightly.

"You're exactly right, but as The Rolling Stones once said: You can't always get what you want." He said as he ran his hands through his hair, displacing it.

"Ah yes, the great philosopher Mick Jagger. Have you heard his opinions on satisfaction and being perpetually unable to acquire it?" She pontificated. He gave her a good-natured scolding look over his glasses for her silly joke. After a moment of comfortable silence he spoke.

"I guess we should get started then. We'll first start off-" Bruce was cut off by Tony and Steve marching over hastily.

"No time. We have a problem." Tony said exigently. "Cap, tell 'em."

"We just received a distress signal from a military base. Their comms must have been tampered with because we haven't been getting any response via radio. All we know is that there have been several explosions." Steve explained.

"So let the American government deal with it. It doesn't sound like it concerns us." Bruce cut in crossing his arms.

"Normally, we would leave it to them but the distress call came from Desert Base, Bruce." Tony continued. "There might be more going on than just a couple of explosions. There have been reports of something else skulking around- something behind the explosions." Bruce's nostrils flared and his stare bore into Tony's. She could see his jaw clenching, the muscles there working furiously. Amira looked between them and her heart seized when she realized that she may be seeing the Hulk _very_ up close and personal today. The full Monty. And to think it was only her second day as an Avenger.

* * *

 **What could it be, hmm? I really hope you guys like the scene between Amira and Natasha. I think they are both like good girlfriends, just girlfriends that kick each other's asses instead of going to brunch and gossiping.**


	9. Chapter 9

**This one was hard to title but I hope you guys are enjoying the story. For what it's worth, I kind of like writing it c: Word to Alva Moondancer for supplying me with sweet, sweet encouragement. Go check out her stuff everyone, it's pretty awesome.**

 **The chapter has modest descriptions of gore, be warned.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of Marvel's**

* * *

Chapter Nine - Dark Forevermore

Aaron mouthed a quick prayer and tucked his necklace – a star of David – under his shirt, patting it to ensure it's safety and nearness to him. It was his ritual every time he was sent out for work. He neatly folded his plain gray kippah and pocketed it, replacing it with his flight headset. Amira was next to him, using the co-pilots seat as a crutch as she slipped a pair of fitted black canvas pants over her shorts. She hadn't expected to be called out so soon and most of her gear was at the tower, so she settled for throwing her lightweight tactical vest on over a black Lycra shirt she kept in her bag. Steve marched purposefully between them and addressed Aaron.

"How quickly can you get us there?"

"Winds aren't with us, sir." Aaron replied, all seriousness. The tall blonde man had swiftly swapped out his civvies for his Captain America uniform. He looked more natural in this attire which was fitting. Amira realized being an Avenger meant always having the uniform on.

"How bad is it?" He asked.

"By my calculations – if I push her – we could pull it off in two hours." Aaron winced and shook his head. "And that's a generous estimation." Steve cursed at this and strode down the aisle to inform Tony.

"Cool it, Cap. By the time we get there they will have survivor evac and recovery covered." He was already clad in his Iron Man suit, save for the helmet. The gold and red armor was incredible to behold in person. Amira felt almost foolish for only having a few bits black Kevlar and canvas. She fumbled with the clips on her thigh rig where she kept a knife and various grenades. She hadn't felt this anxious since being newly recruited.

"What about the rogue presence? Have we heard any updates?" Steve asked.

"Nothing new." Natasha confirmed, removing and replacing all of the bullets in each spare magazine she carried to make sure none were imperfect.

"We'll likely be updated on our way. This was probably just an accident." Clint cut in as he inspected his quiver.

"Desert Base is no ordinary military base. It's a treasure trove of government secrets and experimental weaponry. It's safer to assume foul play." Bruce spoke. The only preparation he made for battle was removing his jacket and rolling his sleeves just below his elbows.

Even now, Amira could feel that steady rhythm against her wrist. It was quickened and keener than it was in the storage facility. She was slightly unnerved by the intrusion on his person. Being privy to his weak and anxious moments didn't feel right. If it had been he who could feel her heart rate she would throw a fit. Feeling suddenly insecure, she reminded herself to ask if the effect went both ways. It was a selfish though, she realized. It was her responsibility as his teammate to at least see how he was. With a sigh, she stood and tucked her pants into her boots - the final touch.

From within the quin jet, the engines sounded like a dull purr. They ascended into the air, everyone setting to their own tasks and musings before the mission. In that way, it wasn't very different from what Amira experienced working for Fury. She hesitantly approached Dr. Banner, who had been sitting in the same seat as before. She plopped herself down next to him and crossed her legs at the ankles. Her boots were scuffed and worn but they were reliable still. She swallowed audibly and tried to seem normal. She almost spoke a few times but she couldn't think what she could possibly say to him. Luckily, she wouldn't have to break the silence.

"Does that hurt?" Bruce sympathized looking at her arm. She cocked her head and then followed his gaze to a growing bruise on her bicep.

"Oh, that? That's nothing" She replied, relieved that he had spoken. Bruce looked as if he didn't believe her. "I'm durable." She assured him. He frowned at her for a reason she could not decipher.

"Natasha doesn't do anything in halves."

"No," Amira admitted, "but she is a good teacher. You should have seen me when I was green." Amira colored and scoffed at herself. "N-not that there is anything wrong with being green. Literally or- or otherwise." She stuttered, feeling stupider and stupider with every word. Bruce just looked on in mild amusement while she cradled her face in her palm, embarrassed.

"What is wrong with me?" She asked, her words minced between her fingers, after a moment of internal scolding.

"It's fine. I can usually handle it when people mention the color green." He said. Amira, not yet recovered from her mortification, just blushed further.

"I'm- I- God." She rolled her eyes at her own inability to communicate. "I just wanted to ask how you were doing. Like, going back- Is it going to be weird for you or…?" She couldn't find a way to be discreet. Her job didn't usually involve talking about feelings.

"You don't have to do this." Mercifully, he replied after a fashion. She released the breath she had been holding. It came as an alleviation to Amira. Every other aspect of this job had, so far, been a baptism by fire. At least, she was spared having to play at being a shrink.

It occurred to her after a moment that his heart rate had normalized. Perhaps in making a complete ass of herself, she brought him some relief.

* * *

The land had changed drastically as they crossed the country. They had been flown from the lush greenery of the East Coast to the red sparse shrublands of the western United States. A few small rivers snaked across the empty desert and gave succor to the surrounding trees and brush. The sky was just as it was described in _Rubaiya_ _t_ , like a blue upturned bowl covering the earth. There were clumps of rust-colored rock jutting out of the ground that had, with time, wind, and sand, been shaped into great smooth plateaus. The air was wanting of some moisture. Amira could already feel her lips being robbed of it.

Tony had elected to fly out ahead of them and feed intel to them before they arrived so that they could be better prepared. The remainder of the Avenger's on board were becoming more and more unsettled as time wore one without a word from Tony. He might have decided to take on something impulsively but he would have at least let them know before he had done so. They would arrive at the base soon enough to find out what had become of him. Amira tamed her hair into a ruthlessly tight ponytail in preparation for imminent landing. Aaron had announced their arrival and each of them could see the many gray buildings haloed by a tall razor-wire fence. Columns of smoke took root and grew from the left side of it.

"Unless my memory fails me, I believe that is the hospital." Bruce hummed through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowed as he peaked through the window.

"Ensuring that survivors would have nowhere to go." Natasha stated.

"This isn't right. Where the hell is the military aid? I don't see any sign of them." Clint piled in next to Natasha and Bruce by the window.

"And Tony. We haven't received any intelligence from him, or any word that he ever arrived." Bruce sounded unworried, but Amira knew he wasn't thanks to her Halo.

"Tony can handle himself. If the military hasn't arrived yet that means that there are hundreds of wounded without help down there. We need to act fast." Said Steve as he pulled his mask over his head.

"I'm bringing her down near the hangar, there." Aaron reported. "Get ready."

The low wail of the ramp lowering in the back brought everyone out of their concern. Now was the time to focus. Amira steadily walked to the front of the aircraft before exiting the jet.

"Aaron."

"What is it?" He looked at her over his sunglasses.

"Something about this doesn't sit right with me. Stay in the jet and keep your eyes up." She ordered, pulling on a pair of tight protective gloves.

"Yeah. You be careful too." He distractedly replied. The many buttons and switches in the cockpit demanded his attention, apparently.

"Aaron." She sharply insisted. "I mean it."

"Yes! Okay! Go on before they leave you behind." He shooed her away, like a child annoyed by an overzealous parent on the first day of school. She sighed and patted his shoulder before scampering out onto the tarmac behind the others. The Captain stood addressing Clint, Natasha, and Bruce. The shrill sound of jet propulsion signaled the arrival of Iron Man. He landed smoothly, though not without cracking the asphalt beneath his boots.

"You guys are right on time." He said, his tone as flippant as usual. Steve met him, clearly frustrated.

"Where have you been?" He scolded.

"Easy, Cap. When I got within range, my comms went haywire. I couldn't reach you or anyone. This place is like the Thunderdome." Cap stared back blankly. Tony, exasperated, sighed and addressed everyone. "Signals aren't going in or out for at least a twenty mile radius. I know because I had to fly twenty miles out until I could get a hold of the military." Bruce shook his head.

"Then how did we get the distress call from here if no one else could?" He asked Tony. Before he could answer a man came limping towards them. Blood smeared his glasses and caked in his ash white hair. His lab coat was stained with it as well.

"Thank God you've arrived. We didn't think any of our messages were getting out." He cried as he approached. Amira placed his English accent. He looked confused and become panicked. "But aren't there any more of you?" Tony took action.

"The proper authorities have been informed. We are here to help."

"Sir, what can we do?" Steve added.

"There are-" He paused and shakily removed his glasses, "many dead and countless injured. Myself and a few other doctors survived the blasts and are doing what we can but we have so few supplies." He looked more and more hopeless as he spoke. Bruce moved closer to inspect the man. "We must go immediately to the barracks where we have made a makeshift field treatment-"

"Dr. Kiernan?" He murmured, craning his neck forward to peer at the fellow.

"Banner? Bruce Banner? Is that you?" He replied. He was shocked, not pleased to see him.

"I'm surprised you recognize me." He replied, obviously darkly amused by the other man's surprise. "I'm not medical doctor, but I am happy to lend a hand any way that I can." He made a move to head towards the barracks when the little doctor grabbed his arm with an excited yelp.

"You mustn't!" He shrieked. Bruce looked greatly put off at the accosting and sudden shouting. His eyebrows were low and his chin tilted up. Dr. Kiernan moved closer to him. His eyes were watery and dark and full of dread.

"The staff at weapons development," He whispered, his voice quivering, "those that have _survived-_ "

"The weapons development building is un-damaged. We saw it when we landed. There was no explosion there." Bruce took a soothing approach. The man was clearly over stressed from the traumatic situation.

"No. No, there was no explosion." Dr. Kiernan repeated. "It is something much worse, I fear."

"You aren't making any sense." Bruce said.

"A monster, Bruce. A monster lurks down there and you are the only one who could possibly stop him."

"Dr. Kiernan, I-"

"No one is safe as long as _that thing_ is still here." The old man insisted. "You are the only one who can navigate those labyrinthine passages." The hold man was clutching Bruce's arms now. The drying blood from the doctor's hands stained his shirt.

"Here." Steve tossed Bruce an earpiece. "The rest of us are going to recover supplies and survivor's from the wreckage. You're going down there." Bruce shook his head and stepped to the Captain.

"I'm the only one of us who has any sort of experience treating the wounded. Dr. Kiernan is obviously confused. There are people- real people who need our help and you're going to send me after the boogeyman?"

"He corroborated the story we received over radio, Banner. You know better than anyone how many military secrets are stored away down there. Weapons, launch codes, troop movements, you name it. How many more people will get hurt if those secrets wind up in the hands of whoever has planned this attack?" Bruce said nothing. He tightened a fist around the strap of a satchel that he had carried out and nodded. Whether he liked it or not, the Captain had given the order.

"Take my identification." The old doctor ripped the little plastic card from where it had been clipped on the pocket of his lab coat and pressed it into Bruce's palm. "The sequence hasn't changed at all since you, uh- retired. The current pass code is four, seven, two, five, one. You know the rest."

"Thanks." He replied begrudgingly. He slipped the card into his pocket. Steve placed a hand on Dr. Kiernan's shoulder and asked him which way to go. Tony launched himself in the direction of the burning hospital. The Captain beckoned for Clint, Natasha, and Amira.

"Not you." He stopped Amira. "You're going with Dr. Banner. You're our only hope in case things go bad with him." She was concerned at his order but would never let him know that. She also would never argue with someone she felt wholly to be her superior officer. So, she did what a proper soldier ought to do.

"Sir." She responded with a salute and a click of her heels. Steve gave her a curt nod and with that she followed after Bruce.

He had put a surprising amount of space in between himself and the rest of the Avengers. His long legs transported him quickly; walking, he far outpaced Amira. She had to practically trot to keep up.

"I have no idea what to expect, so keep your eyes peeled." He said as they headed toward the looming weapons development building. Amira looked back and could see Tony darting about the sky, surveying the wreckage of the medical building for entrapped workers.

"We're going to get this done quickly so we can get back up here to help the injured." He finished. Amira nodded. She could feel her ponytail swinging behind her as she tried to keep pace with Bruce. They arrived at the doors and Amira opened one, allowing Bruce to enter. He muttered a 'thank you' and she followed him inside.

There were papers strewn about and desks upturned as they passed reception. The building was aged and the interior matched it. The bullpen they navigated was dark and destroyed and there was not a soul to tell them what had happened. Bruce lead them to a steel door at the end of a hallway that required the doctor's identification for access. The hallways, as with the rest of the building, were completely dark save for the light that escaped in through small windows that perched themselves high on the walls. They could clearly see the upset dust lingering in the shafts of daylight as they passed through them.

Bruce pulled out the key card while Amira examined the completely dark corridor to their right. A light flickered every now and again at the very end of it. Amira was trying to make out the space with every illumination. Bruce slid the keycard once, twice, three times and cursed.

"These damn things still barely work." He grumbled. Amira's eyes widened at what she had realized sat at the end of the hallway. She tugged lightly at the sleeve of Bruce's shirt. He looked down at her, irked at the interruption. She, never meeting his eyes, pointed slowly at the end of the hall. There, under the flickering light, he turned to see a man. Well, it might have once been a man but the remains were crushed and twisted now. The corpse was slumped up against the wall at the end of the hallway. They could see beneath the fleeting light how the gore marred the linoleum floor. The body looked as if it had been broken and thrown a great distance.

"Christ." Bruce choked; he stood struck, as if he couldn't tear his eyes away. Her bracelet was nagging at her now. Amira paced around him to make a barrier of herself, blocking his view of the grisly sight. She swallowed hard and looked up at him.

"Let's try again." He peered down at her. "The door." She clarified carefully. Bruce gave her a hard look and then nodded. He glanced down the nightmarish hallway once more and then set to the task of opening the door. The click of the lock rang out and both Amira and Bruce sighed with relief.

He pushed the door open. What little light filled the room they were in now completely died out in the stairway he had lead them to. It was black. Amira searched for the little mag light she kept in her vest. Once she found it, she used it to illuminate the stairs.

"We follow it to the bottom. The subterranean level is about two floors deep." Bruce whispered. Amira carefully made her way down the steps with Bruce in tow. She switched the mag light into her left hand and pulled the gun out of her thigh rig. She utilized the Harries flashlight hold, resting her gun wielding hand over the one that held her flashlight. Usually, she wouldn't ever brandish a gun. She was an awful shot. Besides, she never needed to with her abilities, especially in the dark. But she was with Bruce and, for the time being, he was unable to protect himself. She would look after him.

"Through this door is the lab. Whoever killed that guy upstairs is likely to be down here somewhere." Bruce said, his voice wavering. Amira put a finger to her lips. Bruce nodded. She holstered her weapon and extinguished her flashlight. As quietly as she was able, she slipped through the doors and onto the lab floor, leaving him behind. Low emergency lights gleamed red, lighting up the floors and doorways. It was just as the offices had been. Absolutely destroyed. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she listened for any trace of noise. It was as silent as death save for a small static disruption that she attempted to trace. She crept up to the sound and felt secure enough to switch on her flashlight again.

"What happened to you?" She murmured to the poor man that lay, bent over a desk as if he had been carelessly tossed there. She flipped him over to check his vitals. Upon seeing the contorted state of his neck her question was answered. The dead man seemed to be some sort of security; his clothes suggested as much. Amira reached over to his radio and switched it off, silencing the static. She shined her flashlight on the room around her. Fourteen or more bodies lay dead around the room, each of them as gruesomely treated as the last.

"It was a killing floor." Amira said to herself. Now that she had seen the bloodshed she identified the tang of it in the air.

It was a smell she had experienced many times. It was a smell she could never forget.

Most of them were scientists. Unarmed innocents. She was not shaken by the scene now, but it would surely contribute to her nightmares. Satisfied, she headed back to the door.

"All clear." She said to Bruce in hushed tones. He made a move to step out into the lab and she stopped him. "Bruce."

"What?" He replied. She could feel her cuff nagging at her.

"It's not good in there."

"Oh."

"You don't have to do this."

"What choice do I have?" He said as he stepped around her. She followed him into the dark but he couldn't see through the black curtain. "The light?" He asked. Hesitantly, Amira handed him her flashlight which he clicked on. He caught a glimpse of a young woman crumpled in the corner and swayed on his feet.

"Bruce-"

"I might be sick." He groaned. If the bodies hadn't been so _mutilated_ he may not have been so affected. Bruce was seeing his old office in ruin and people – much like the ones he worked with when he was young – murdered. Maybe the Hulk didn't mind seeing blood and bone in such a manner but Bruce Banner did. Amira took the flashlight and grabbed the sides of his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey." She said rapidly. "Look at me." She couldn't tell if he was or not. It was far too dark. The point was to get his mind off of what he had seen. "We just go on through in to the next room, right?" She asked, trying to sound confident. His breathing was slow and shaking and it was the only noise she could hear.

"Yes. That, uh- that hallway will lead us past some offices. We'll take a right and then a left. That should be the entrance to the war room."

"War room?"

"Command center, sorry. General Ross called it the war room. It was fitting, since he approached every aspect of his life as if it were a war." He had a touch of his usual snarkiness back. Relieved, she started moving slowly towards the end of the lab floor. She presumed the rest of the way to the command center would be just as bad.

"It's dark." He said.

"Here." She twisted around to grab his right hand and place it on her right shoulder. "Follow closely. Eyes forward." She ordered. She was sure footed and her night vision was decent. She could lead them to the enclave.

The moved at a dreadfully slow pace and corridors twisted and turned in a way that made her feel disoriented. Bruce had oversimplified the directions, to say the least. Usually, she could see the dead before he could, their silhouettes highlighted by the red foot lights. The few times when they had to sidestep around a fallen MP she could feel Bruce's grip like a vice on her shoulder. She hummed to herself as they moved through the darkness.

"Why are you humming Sinatra?" He spoke. The even shuffling of his footsteps maintaining their sureness.

"Sinatra? The _only_ version of _Beyond the Sea_ is Bobby Darin's." She replied mirthfully.

"Amira." He replied, his tone a warning. She sighed. How unfair it was that he got to be brooding and perplexing all the time and she wasn't even allowed a joke.

"It's better than listening to my own thoughts right now." She admitted softly. She disliked blindly stumbling through the house of horrors as much as he.

"I see." He said, contritely.

"Good God, what is that smell?" She said suddenly, raising the back of her wrist to cover her nose. The air had been dampened with a pungent sour stench like a mire of milk languishing in the summer sun.

"Wow. That is- I can taste it." Bruce's reply was muffled by his own hand covering his face.

"Oh, why'd you say that? Now _I_ can taste it." Amira complained. "I think we're at the command center now and I _think_ it's the source of the smell." It reeked, truly.

"And whoever got here before us took care of the security door. We won't need Dr. Kiernan's card now." He said as he pushed the card into his shirt pocket. In the dark she could make out the massive hole that had been blown open where the door was. "That door was twelve inches of steel. Blast proof." Bruce marveled along with her.

" _Something_ blasted through it." Amira remarked. She pulled her flashlight out again and shined it on the gnarled edges.

"The only thing left is the pass coded door. You'll need to remove any weapons that you have. There is a very sophisticated metal detector. It will sense them and trigger an alarm." Bruce said, moving over to the key panel. She rolled her eyes and removed her vest and pistol. As soon as that was done she placed them in the hallway, where they wouldn't trip any sensors. She pointed her flashlight over to the next gigantic steel door. This one hadn't been forced, oddly. A dead man lay face down by it's side. Bruce saw this. Amira made a move to help him but he stopped her.

"It's okay. I'm fine now, I think. Whoever did this probably made him enter the code before killing him." He took a deep breath and set to his task. Amira watched him intently, monitoring her Halo cuff. Bruce faltered trying to enter the pass key. "I can't remember the damn number." He growled.

"Four, seven, two, five, one." Amira rattled off without thinking.

"Sorry?" Bruce said.

"Four. Seven. Two. Five. One." She repeated slowly.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "Because if we get it wrong it'll trip a very loud alarm."

"What _doesn't_ trip an alarm around here?" She muttered bitterly. "Yes, I am sure." She insisted.

He slowly punched in the code. The leviathan door's locking mechanism slid out of place, creating a loud echoing sound. The odor began to seep into the room and choked them both. As the door slowly creaked open they could both hear a grim and malicious chuckling dripping out from behind it. The command center was well lit with the majority of the auxiliary power being directed towards it. Beneath the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights they could both see the horrid green amalgamation of man and nightmare that towered before them.

"Emil." Bruce breathed and as soon as he spoke, it roared with sickening fearsomeness. Amira looked to Bruce who did not take his eyes off of the monster prowling in between the desks and monitors.

"Take this." He removed his satchel and handed it to her. She cocked her head but took it from him. It must have been full of explosives or something fun like that- something she could use against this creature.

"Bruce." She snapped. "Is this your dry cleaning?" The contents of the satchel were disappointing to say the least. It was just clothing.

"Just keep track of it for me. It's important." Amira scoffed and wore the satchel, despite finding it to be very stupid.

"Talking to yourself, Dr. Banner? One might think you're starting to slip." The monster sneered. It spoke, much to Amira's surprise. Though, as she thought on it, surely if it could laugh it could speak. It seemed that it couldn't see her; it wasn't immune to her abilities, thankfully.

"It's been a long time." Bruce called back at the monster, who was stalking around him like some predatory thing. It had the vague shape of a man with pointed, webbed protrusions where it's ears might have been. It's smile looked like it had been carved out with a razor. Ear to ear, it stretched across his cheeks and it was crowded with sharp yellowing teeth. The eyes were it's worst feature. They were clouded white and cruel, set beneath a ribbed, massive brow. It was muscled and heavy set – a warty, scaly, stinking juggernaut.

"Yes, it has hasn't it. And how beautifully poetic is it that we should meet here?" It replied venomously. Amira crept around it. Bruce seemed unconcerned. He wore that mysterious smile once more.

"The irony wasn't lost on me, Emil." The creature snarled at the use of that name and scraped it's long pointed claws along the metal panels on the wall.

"Oh, Dr. Banner, you impress me with your pleasantries but I find myself tiring of this small talk." The monster was now looking down at Bruce, close enough to swipe.

"You killed a lot of people back there." Bruce said as he unbuttoned his shirt and carefully removed it. Amira recoiled at the absurdity. Surely, he wasn't going to try and _seduce_ the monster.

"Think of how many people I saved, Bruce. Those scientists _-_ Those unethical _monsters_ , care nothing for how many lives _they_ take when _their_ weapons strike hospitals and schools."

"Emil-"

"Do you think they care when they kill children, Dr. Banner? Innocent children. They will _never_ care. Not as long as they don't have to witness as the life leaves their eyes as I have. My Master has shown me much. I see everything for what it is now." It bellowed. Amira crouched behind a desk and listened to it's soliloquy.

"Emil, that doesn't excuse-"

"No!" It screamed, throwing it's arms out in a frenzy. It was breathing heavily now and peering down at Bruce. "You will not call me by that name. You will call me what I am. What _your kind_ made me; I am an Abomination!" It tossed it's head back, roaring once more. Then it charged at Bruce.

Amira covered her mouth to stifle a cry. She watched as Bruce surrendered to his own monster. The one that lived within him. Amira's Halo cuff stung her and shrillly alarmed until she whacked the read out with her hand. Luckily, the monster had not noticed the sound, he was too busy squaring off with the Hulk. His flesh, newly green, stretched over his impossibly large muscles as he grew in height and strength. Amira realized why he had removed his shirt and packed a fresh set of clothing with him. His pants were shredded and barely holding onto his body. He still looked like the Bruce that she knew, in a small way. Though it made her feel guilty, she was glad to be far away from him in this state.

The two of them were locked in combat, pushing one another to see who would give first. The Abomination howled in the Hulk's face and tossed him into a large glass partition sending a million crystalline pieces clinking to the ground. The Hulk quickly recovered and lunged once more at his foe, earning himself a blow to the jaw as the quick creature side stepped him and countered. Amira winced at the hit. She couldn't possibly intervene at this point. One misstep and she'd be applesauce beneath their feet. She remembered the earpiece Bruce had. In their hurry they had forgotten to inform Steve of their findings. Amira swept through his satchel but the little machine was nowhere to be found. She indulged herself by burying her face in his clean clothes for a moment, however, as the smell of freshly laundered shirts was a welcome reprieve from the stench marinating the room.

"That's it, you imbecile. En garde!" The Abomination taunted the Hulk as he failed, once again, to land a hit.

"C'mon, Bruce." Amira quietly prayed from her hiding spot.

The Abomination was larger than him by many feet. The Hulk sneaked in a good blow here and there, but it was the Abomination that was dominating the fight. Amira, fed up with seeing her team mate taking a thrashing, reached for a chunk of cement rubble lying near her. She grabbed it and, sprinting closer to the two clashing titans, chucked it as hard as she could at the Abomination's head. She watched it soar through the air as she prayed her years as a pitcher in pickup baseball games during her adolescence would pay off. It didn't meet it's mark by even a long shot but the result was far better than she expected. It hurdled into a light fixture above the monster's head and shattered it, sending sparks and glass showering down upon it's head. The brief distraction gave the Hulk a window to strike. And strike, he did. He tackled the Abomination to the ground and delivered the maximum payload. A half dozen brutal blows drove the monster's head into the floor.

Her little diversion gave her the opportunity to sprint over to the spot where Bruce had changed. She got down on her hands and knees and swept her palms over the rubble covered floor, searching for the earpiece. She heard the Abomination thunderously bellow, apparently angered at being so thoroughly mauled. Looking up, she saw the larger beast bring a fist down on the top of the Hulk's head. Amira was panicking, switching in between watching the tide of the fight turn and looking for the device.

When she finally found it the Abomination had ruthlessly headbutted the Hulk and sent him reeling into a server array. Dizzied, the Hulk struggled to regain his bearings. Emil would grant him no mercy. The odorous beast picked up the Hulk and hoisted him over his head. With a final bestial shriek he threw him down onto some jagged rubble that had been created in the fight. The Hulk looked broken and beaten, contorted as he was on the cement. The monster looked quite pleased with himself. He grabbed the Hulk by one of his large feet and swung him around like an Olympic hammer thrower. He let him go, sending his body flying over Amira's head – almost lopping it off. He crashed into the massive steal door. Amira, clutching the earpiece, dove out of the way of falling debris. She looked back and the Hulk was out cold. The door was now blocked by several large chunks of metal and cement that Amira could never hope to move.

She was trapped in this room with the monster and if she didn't get help soon, Bruce may be in serious trouble. Luckily, she was unhurt. She sought safety underneath a desk and popped the little device into her ear.

"This is Amira Mizrahi, does anyone read me?" She tried her best to be quiet. The monster was still lurking. "Tony, Clint? Do you read me?" She repeated into the device. The only thing she heard back was static. She pounded her fists into her own thighs with frustration. It had either broken or the signal was blocked by whatever was interfering with everything else. Either way, she was running out of options. She peaked out from under her desk and saw that the Abomination had hefted a massive piece of cement over his head and was preparing to deliver a death blow to the Hulk. She rolled her eyes and swore. She was still cloaked. With her abilities and a little bit of cleverness, she could buy them both some time.

"Hey ugly!" She shouted from her desk. As soon as the words left her mouth she scrambled out from under it and sprinted around the perimeter of the large command center, over desks and destroyed computers. The monster growled.

"What's this? A little mouse in my pantry? I cannot abide it!" He punctuated the last word by dropping his rock on the ground. Amira felt the earth tremble beneath her with the force of it. He headed off in the direction of where she had been last. He made his path by carelessly throwing and crushing whatever stood in before him. Amira was gripped with a terror she could not quiet. To be pursued by such a violent, relentless creature was unlike anything she had ever known. She buried her mouth in the crook of her arm, that he might not even hear her breathe.

"So," He cooed, "it is a clever mouse." His malignant laughter made her quake. He stomped away from her prior location and towards her now; she could not will her legs to carry her. She sat, knees to her chest and hand over her mouth, just against another overturned desk as the monster loomed behind her. She heard it inhale deeply as it approached and she saw it's shadow grow on the wall.

"I can smell your fear." He said, trying to sound sickeningly sweet. It was something horrible when a voice like that - a voice that sounds like a saw taken to bone - was sung so closely into one's ear. She saw his shadow raise a fist. With a small yelp she rolled out of the way as he brought it down onto her former hiding place, smashing it to pieces. "Ah, there's the wretched thing." He remarked, as if bored. She was too distracted to keep her abilities working consistently. As soon as she shakily stood he swatted at her, sending her flying across the room into the pile of glass from the broken partition. He could have ended her with a single twitch of his finger but he was the type to draw it out. It was much like a cat might play with it's food.

When she realized what had happened she still felt as if she couldn't get a proper breath and she struggled to lift herself out of the glass. It was embedded in her hands and knees and dug it's way into her side. She cried out under the strain of her efforts but just as Bruce had failed to get up, so did she fail.

"There, there." The monster sang. He picked her up like a little doll in his hand. He looked sorrowfully at her for a moment as he cradled her in one palm. Amira protested in his grasp but he held her steadfastly "It will all be over soon. Any last words?" He asked.

"The black- The black-" She stuttered, coughing and making small utterances of pain.

"What's that, my dear?" He held her closer to his ear.

"The black lagoon called, they want their c-creature back." She spat. The monster threw his head back and his body shook with laughter.

"It wouldn't have been my first choice to make my legacy a mediocre one-liner. But hey, it's your funeral." The Abomination mocked her but she could not care less.

"I thought," She panted, "it was pretty good." At that, she let her body fall limp and submitted herself to her fate. The cold blooded hand slowly closed around her. She laughed at herself inwardly. She always assumed she'd be shot or blown up like most S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Being crushed to death in the fist of an overgrown, freakish Bond villain was pretty spectacular in comparison.

As the pressure started to become truly painful, her captor was startled by a sudden blast. The moment it happened she slipped from the Abomination's grasp and fell slackly to the ground like a sack of sand. She couldn't make out much, but the monster had turned away from her and was now screaming at the entrance to the command center. She bit her lip hard. The pain thrilled her body, filling her limbs with the verve to _move_. Somehow, she had another shot at life and she was not going to lay there and waste it. Very precariously, she stood. She could see the Hulk laying off to the side of the entrance. He could not have been responsible for the blast, incapacitated as he was. She could not see the one to blame but she did hear him speak.

"Foul creature, I would have words with thee."

* * *

 **Ta da! I was pretty proud of this one! Dr. Banner didn't like seeing so many awful things, poor guy.**

 **I'm trying to go for a tragic Frankenstein's monster style portrayal of the Abomination. He's not as gentle as Frankenstein's monster but he is eloquent and educated. I hope you guys think it's groovy.**

 **Shout out to my Lola who would be pretty stoked that I referenced Rubaiyat.**

 **This entire chapter brought to you by Carpenter Brut - Trilogy. I listened to the album on repeat while I wrote and it kept me from throwing myself down a well.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Enjoy the day early update c: Just a little note, it's canon in some of the comics that there is a refractory period for Bruce turning into the Hulk. When he has changed back he can't go right back into Hulk mode at the drop of a hat.**

 **I tried to do as much research as possible for every aspect of this chapter. Forgive me for inaccuracies.**

 **violet light - Raised By Swans fueled this chapter**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of Marvel's**

* * *

Chapter Ten - Drowned

She recognized him easily now as he brought his hammer across the cheek of the Abomination. The sound when it made contact was satisfying and filled Amira with an incredible hope. The monster matched the Hulk in sheer strength but bested him in speed. He appeared, now, to be moving in slow motion pitted against the Asgardian prince. Thor leaped and dodged around every attempt made by the monster to squash him, his majestic blonde tresses and red cape rippling behind him.

Amira, forgotten by the monster, reestablished her cloak and sprinted over to where Bruce was lying. She couldn't forget how badly he had been brutalized. In every report or legend she had ever heard of where the Hulk had come undone he had never lost. Yet there she had seen him, knocked out cold. She had been too distracted by Thor's heroic entrance to see the moment he had transformed back into the mild-mannered scientist she knew. She fell next to him hard on her glass speckled knees. She growled and kicked herself for not having her knee pads in her duffel bag that day. Uncaring of the pain, she methodically checked his pulse. She couldn't feel it in her bracelet. His had broken during the change.

Nothing.

She placed her head on his chest trying to feel for the slightest movement.

He was alive. His pulse was faint but it was there and she could feel his chest rising very shallowly.

She sighed and let herself breathe fully for the first time since she fell from the hands of the Abomination. He was completely unscathed. So, he was as indestructible as they said. She wound the satchel over her head – miraculously, it hadn't fallen off of her – and placed it gently beside him. His pants, now woefully stretched and torn, kept him mostly decent. She lightly tapped his cheek with her hand. The exit was just to their left, Thor had punched through the debris and made a large gap. If she could get them out while Thor fought off the Abomination they might both have a chance of getting out of this alive. He stirred and muttered as he fell into consciousness.

"Come one, wake up." She said impatiently. She persistently batted at his cheek to rouse him.

"MmmBetty?" He murmured, his voice rolled over his lips dreamily.

"Nope. Amira. And we've got to get the hell out of here." His eyelids, trimmed with long dark lashes, twitched and fluttered open. She could see the final flecks of green draining from his irises. He reeled when he saw Amira kneeling over him; his good dream had been disturbed. He look disoriented and pained like a bright spotlight had been directed into his eyes.

"Wha-" He was interrupted by a loud crash from the fighting happening close by.

"I'll fill you in on the details later. Can you walk?" She asked as she helped him to sit up. He nodded.

Thor swung Mjollnir rapidly and let it rip. It flew so quickly that Amira could barely trace it. Bruce watched along with her as the projectile connected with it's intended target. They both cringed when they heard the rush of air leaving the Abomination's lungs as the hammer struck him square in his chest. He was driven into the earth and became pinned beneath Mjollnir's incalculable weight. His arms and legs flailed as he sputtered for want of oxygen. Thor bellowed a victorious laugh.

"That was the best you could do, beast? I admit my disappointment." He taunted. Amira stood and approached him. The room was, somehow, more trashed than it had been before. Limping, she carefully tiptoed over detritus and debris to address the Asgardian.

"Am I ever glad to see you." She panted. Thor held a hand out to summon his hammer and looked in her direction.

"Who goes there? Show yourself at once!" He barked. With a single motion he could retrieve his hammer and destroy her.

"I come in peace! I- oh!" She remembered to uncloak herself, "Sorry about that." She was hunched over, hands resting on her knees, breathing heavily. The stately man dropped his guard and his eyes softened.

"You seem to be in some distress." He said, lowering his hand and moving in to help her.

"I'm fine. We have to get out of here and tell the others." She brushed him off and directed him to Bruce, who was tripping over himself trying to step into the pair of jeans he had grabbed from his satchel.

"I see. I will assist you at once-" He looked at her, his eyes questioning.

"Amira."

"I will assist you at once, Lady Amira." He finished.

"You don't have to- uh, whatever." Amira couldn't bear to correct him, He seemed so determined to be jovial and polite. She rubbed her forehead and gestured to the Abomination. "What about that guy?"

"Oh, he isn't going anywhere." Thor said with a toothy grin. The monster was using all of his strength to breathe beneath the hammer's weight. Amira wasn't consoled, however. He still laughed that evil sticky laugh in between his labored inhalations. She struggled to tear her gaze away from the monster and directed it towards getting to the surface. She joined the other two men. Bruce spoke to her, his eyes averted.

"Thanks, y'know," He seemed bashful, "for keeping track of my bag." Amira gave him a little smile, partly out of amusement and relief for seeing him upright and not quite so _angry_. She also didn't want either man to know the extent of her injuries so she tried to seem confident. They couldn't afford even one more distraction.

"Well, it wouldn't do to have you romping around the place naked, would it?" She replied.

"That would have been interesting. I don't think I've ever romped before." He snarked. He had enough energy to be sarcastic. That was a good sign. Amira, as quickly as she could with her haggard limbs, jogged through the gap and retrieved her vest and gun. She looked back. Through the massive hole, she could see a sudden light flickering in the command room. She tripped back and supported herself on the rubble beside the exit to see what was the matter. The laughing was much worse now. It was louder. An eerie yellow glow enveloped the Abomination. Thor's hammer toppled uselessly over onto the concrete floor.

"Impossible." Said Thor, his gaze tracking the creature. Slowly, he was lifted into the air, enchanted by the strange light. He did not seem concerned. In fact, he was very triumphant as his huge green body levitated before them. Bruce and Thor looked as awestruck as she felt.

"Bruce Banner!" The monster declared. "I'll see you again for round two very soon!" Amira glanced at Bruce. The golden glow reflected off of the sheen of sweat on his face. He was wide eyed and shocked. This was the first time he had ever been beaten. She swallowed hard. If the indestructible Hulk was afraid then what hope did she have? Would Thor always be there to bail them out of trouble?

"And you, little mouse!" His voice was low now, gnawing at her insides like a virus. "I'll crush you yet." It was a subtle threat. No one else had seen that Amira was in his clutches. She stood her ground, determined not to let anyone know how tremulously afraid she was. The Abomination started to de-materialize, shimmering like a hologram. When he finally disappeared the pale yellow beams crackled like lightning and surged throughout the room. The light bulbs in each fixture exploded, sending sparks like stars in every direction. His bitter, evil laughter echoed throughout the room even after he had gone. It was now unbearably quiet and dark. The rancid smell had, at least, begun to let up with his dramatic exit.

"What the hell just happened?" Bruce asked into the blackness.

"I have no idea." Amira replied.

"Tell me, why did the monster not offer me a parting threat?" Thor mused.

"He must be a sore loser." Said Bruce. Thor, appeased by this answer, frowned and threw his hand out to summon his hammer. It obeyed his call, and came to him from the dark. He inspected it skeptically, aghast at how easily it had been moved before. Bruce urged them on and they carefully headed into the corridors. Amira clicked on her trusty flashlight and they hurried out of the weapons development building.

The three Avengers climbed their way out of the subterranean level of the old building with Thor leading the way. After ascending the stairs, they came to the secure door they entered through. It had been blown off of it's hinges. Amira assumed this was Thor's doing. They followed behind the blonde titan and breathed deeply, the fresh air. Their eyes adjusted to the new light as they sprinted across the bull pen. Amira ignored the stinging in her side where the glass was burrowing into her. Bruce was lagging behind, wheezing and staggering. She slowed her pace.

"Sorry, it's just after I- you know." Amira was along side him now, he was sweating and panting. "It just takes it's toll." She craned her neck to see out of the glass doors and then back to Bruce.

"Take your time." She said. "Thor, can you go ahead and tell the others?" She shouted ahead of her. Thor had slowed ahead of them and looked back. He gave her one sharp nod and bounded outside. The sun had begun to set, and the daylight was waning

Bruce and Amira paced as quickly as they could to the doors. When he tried to swing the door open for them he brushed her side, jostling her vest. She hissed, her hand shooting up to her side to soothe it. Bruce, brow furrowed, looked from her torso to her eyes. She waved him off.

"I've got a stitch in my side - too much running." She said, resuming her stride beside the weary doctor.

"Why are you lying?"

"How do you know it's a lie." She petulantly said.

"You're bleeding." He flatly replied.

"It's superficial. There!" She said, attempting to divert his attention. "The barracks are just ahead." She pointed to the six long and low structures forty or so yards ahead of them. People hurried back and forth between buildings, carting around the wounded and various supplies. Amira squinted her eyes to catch a glimpse of her team mates but none were in sight. She heard the familiar crackling combustion of Tony's suit singing overhead. He came to an abrupt landing nearer to the barracks. His head turned to them and his face plate lifted; recognition flickered on his features.

That was the precise moment when the second, third, fourth and fifth planted explosives detonated simultaneously.

She had only a split second to see the barracks shatter before the shock wave hit her. The heat was palpable and clawed at her flesh.

She was deaf, she was blind, and then she was nothing.

She dreamed, however.

Her father was taking her and Aaron outside on a particularly snowy day in New York City. The steep street they lived on was buried in snow and all of the kids in the neighborhood came out in droves with boxes, saucers, or whatever they had on hand to slide down the newly made icy hill. She and Aaron share the lid they had poached from a storage container in the closet. She hasn't been this happy since her mother died; Aaron barely remembers those days. Their father looks on, a faded smile that they rarely see him wear ghosts across his weathered, tan features. He gives them a tentative wave and then heads back upstairs to finish his work. They thought he was going to stay. Amira tells Aaron it doesn't matter. They will make their own fun without him. They always managed.

Aaron convinces her to launch him off at the highest point of the hill. She doesn't want to but he begs. They race down the incline at incredible speed. Amira, afraid, grips Aaron's sleeves as she sits on her heels behind him on the lid. Aaron is never afraid, he shrieks with laughter and Amira regrets letting him be in front. Some older kids down the street built a small ramp at the bottom of the hill. Aaron can't see it there. The gray clouds make the snow shadowless and flat against the paper white background of the street. They launch off of it. The rest of the kids cheer. Aaron stays on the lid and lands. The neighborhood children talk of it as legend for months to come. At the apex of the jump, Amira had panicked and fallen off, flat on her back. The impact was rough and knocked the breath out of her. She rolls around uselessly, shrieking in between sobs and pawing at her chest.

"It hurts! I can't breathe!" To a ten year old, this is what dying was.

"I can't breathe!" She wails over and over. Aaron holds her face in his little mittened hands.

She can't breathe. She is dying.

She can't breathe.

"Breathe!" Came the muted voice. It roared under the ringing tone that deafened her.

The hands are hot on her cheeks. It is no longer cold out. The snow melts.

Amira opened her eyes to the darkening sky. She sucked in gulps of air greedily. She saw the silhouette of a face. Swirling embers danced into the sky where they died out like shooting stars. More voices traded back and forth.

"Aaron." She croaked. And then she remembered. "Aaron!" She shouted.

"Calm down, Amira." The voice again. She tried to focus on that voice. She shut her eyes tight and then opened them again, trying to make them work better.

"Clint?" She asks, her breathe coming shallowly.

"Yeah, it's me, kid." He helped her to sit. "You okay?" The acrid smell of the burning building stung her nostrils. Smaller noises won out over the ringing in her ears. She could hear the hysteria of the survivors of the blast.

"I'm alive." Was all she could reply. She was struck with the full memory of what had happened. Alarmed, she searched around for Bruce. She found him next to her, sitting up and rubbing his face. When he looked to her she could see a burst capillary in his right eye, coloring a small corner of his sclera red. They exchanged a bleary sort of greeting- a glad realization that the other was alive. She turned her head back to Clint. Natasha stood many feet away, shouting orders to newly arriving soldiers and medics. The aid had finally arrived. Tony was limping near her, his armor hanging off of him, most of it broken. Amira doubted that even he had a quip in the face of the wreckage. The normally exuberant man looked shell-shocked and cradled his left arm against his chest.

"The others?" She asks.

"Are fine." He confirms over the chaos. "We were all at the hospital looking for survivors. Thor had just rejoined us when the blast went off. He told us you two were still back here." He held out a hand to help her up.

She shook on her legs like an infant as she stood. This was the second time today she had been knocked on her ass. It wasn't a record, by any means, but she'd had better days. When she felt steady she thanked Clint. He moved on to help Bruce. The barracks were completely swallowed up by a twisting inferno, she could feel it scorching her face. Bruce was helped to stand beside her. His new change of clothes had been dirtied and rumpled, his hair curled and clung to his neck. He wiped his cracked frames with the bottom of his t-shirt. He glanced up at her. The orange flames set their skin aglow.

"Dr. Banner!" They both snapped to attention. Steve Rogers was coming slowly to a halt before them. He was carrying Aaron in his arms. Amira felt her heart swell and burst.

"Aaron." She mouthed. Her voice refused to work.

"He was carrying supplies to the barracks when the blast went off." Steve said, winded. "He's alive but he's hurt. There aren't enough doctors. I didn't know what to do so I came to you." Amira crowded Steve to examine her brother. His arm was folded over his stomach.

"Aaron." She repeated. He moved his arm away to reveal where his flight suit and flesh had been ripped apart by flying debris. Amira covered her mouth. He gave her a little smile. She could see where the blood had lightly stained his teeth and collected around his gums. "I told you to stay on the jet." She cried, not angry but distraught.

"Are you mad at me?" He weakly asked of Amira. Before she could answer Bruce had gently nudged her out of the way.

"Put him down." He roughly ordered. "Gently." Steve complied and set Aaron softly down on the pavement. Amira dumbly stood beside him. She was screaming in her head to act but she couldn't move.

"Clint, do you know where the medical kit is in the jet?" He evenly addressed the marksman. He received a nod from the stoic man.

"I'm on it." Hawkeye declared. He bolted off in the direction of the hangars. Natasha and Steve glanced at one another and silently agreed to head off and lend what help they could to the reinforcements trying to douse the fire.

Bruce immediately went into doctor mode, though he had little energy to run on and, quite frankly, looked as though he'd been hit by a train. His hands worked deftly to assess the damage done. The fallen pilot had lost a lot of blood. Amira, emboldened by Bruce's fast action, removed her gloves and knelt beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked over, confused.

"Give me something to do." She said, her voice uneven but her face determined. He paused briefly, as if unsure whether or not he should send her away. He sighed.

"Put pressure here for me." Bruce ordered. "Keep it sealed, do you understand?" He let her replace his hand where he was keeping pressure on Aaron's side.

"Like this?" She asked uncertainly. Her face was ashen. The blood pulsing under her fingers made her sick but she wouldn't fail Aaron. Bruce pressed his own hand on hers to teach her how much pressure was required.

"That tickles." Only Aaron could joke at a time like this. Amira wanted to slap him and squeeze him so tight all at once.

"Save your strength, Aaron." She said. She could feel searing tears pooling in her eyes. Clint dashed over, a modest bag over his shoulder. He set it down next to Bruce and then hunched over to catch his breath.

"Thank you. You should go and help the others." He tossed his head to indicate where Natasha, Steve, and Thor were helping survivors. After taking a moment to recuperate, Clint agreed darted off.

"I can stitch his wound but I don't know the extent of the internal damage. What we can do is buy him time." He said as he delved into setting up an IV to replace his fluid. Amira tried to push away the nagging hopelessness she felt at his words. The supplies aboard the quin jet were meager, this was all he could do until they could get assistance from a real medical doctor with more tools. The base was just so remote and Aaron had very little time.

Amira put her other hand on her brother's cheek. Blood was coating her arm and uniform. She murmured little encouragements and comforting things to her brother that only the three of them could hear.

"It's going to be okay, Aaron." She cooed, her voice was wet and heavy.

"It isn't so bad- doesn't hurt like I thought it would." His voice was so small. It was like they were children again. "Death, I mean." He finished. She hushed him and cried freely now.

"Don't say that." She said. Aaron frowned and did not speak. Her hands were shaking and her breathing was coming sharply and irregularly. Bruce shyly squeezed her upper arm and she looked up at him with swimming eyes.

"You don't have to do this, Amira." He whispered.

"Yes I do." She bit back, becoming defensive in her panic.

He rubbed his forehead for a moment, pondering something very weighty. He managed to get a small bit of blood on his brow.

"You know- you know this doesn't look good? I don't have the tools to give him a blood transfusion and I'm no surgeon." He spoke only to her, quietly so that Aaron wouldn't hear. "The blood in his mouth- well, it's indicative of internal rupturing, likely from the blast." He hesitated.

Amira responded with a sober nod. Indeed, he was no surgeon and she was no fool. Though she held the laceration closed as best she could there was still a lot of blood loss, and such a wound is hard to come back from. Her irises darted from side to side, searching desperately for the solution in Bruce's eyes. She couldn't possibly know how many times he had been on the receiving end of that look and how rarely he had ever had an answer. She noticed how aged and dark his eyes looked in that moment. She only looked back to her brother when she felt his breath quicken. The hand that Aaron had placed over Amira's felt cold and clammy and his face was as white as a sheet.

"He's really pale, Bruce. What do we do?" Amira sobbed with alarm.

"Be brave, 'Mira." Her brother meekly intoned. He looked so _afraid_. Amira shook her head ordered him to keep his eyes open. "Okay? Be brave." She could barely hear the last word. His hand fell away from hers.

"He's going into shock. His organs are going to start failing." Bruce confirmed. He needed to take charge of the situation. "Keep your hand on his wound. Do you feel any kind of pulse?" He asked urgently as he rummaged through the bag for something- anything to help him. She drove her fingers into his neck.

"I-I can't feel anything. It's weak. What do we do?" She shrieked desperately. Bruce beckoned for her to move her hand away and felt for himself.

"God damn it!" Bruce bit out through clenched teeth.

"What do we do?" Amira insisted. She wept as she rocked slightly back and forth.

"Just let me think." He hissed.

"Aaron. Please." Amira begged running her hands through his hair. His eyes were half-lidded and looking past her. A litany of pleading spilled from her lips but Aaron did not hear them. Bruce immediately began CPR. Her shaking intensified and she shrilly exclaimed, "I can't feel his pulse. I- I- there's nothing."

"Don't move, Amira." Bruce ordered as he compressed Aaron's chest rhythmically. She couldn't stop little whimpers from escaping her with every exhalation but she kept her hand where it was and did not stray.

"How can I be brave without you?" She whimpered, her knuckles white where she gripped his shoulder. "How can I be brave if you aren't here to make me brave?"

Bruce had been at it for what seemed like hours and he was exhausted. Amira watched him continue even though she must have known that by now if would not make a difference. Blood weakly wept from in between her quivering fingers. There was no longer a heart beat. Despite this, he kept going and going. He would not quit.

"Hey," Tony knelt down and placed a crimson gauntlet on the forearm of his friend, an act urging him to stop. He had been watching on the sidelines of the wreckage, holding his arm and keeping his distance until he intervened. Bruce grimaced and finally relented. He hesitated to meet Amira's gaze as he wiped his blood flecked glasses on his shirt. He sighed. Their eyes met for a moment but he looked away from her, seemingly defeated and disappointed in himself. Amira simply sat on her heels and cradled her baby brother's head in her lap. She had closed his eyes for him.

"I'm sorry, Amira." Bruce breathed. She weakly shook her head.

"He never listened to me. He should've listened." She trailed off. He was so close to her he could probably hear her heavy tears pitter patter as they collided with Aaron's cheek. "It isn't your fault." She tenderly swept the hair out of Aaron's face which was ghostly and so sedate it was almost unrecognizable. Bruce looked as if he wanted to say something but instead he opted for silence. He just calmly sat next to her, studying her, listening to her cry. She had scrapes and dried blood on her uniform and face.

"You're still bleeding." He said pointing to her side. He could see where the small trickle of blood had become sticky and dried under her vest. She had stopped feeling her own cuts long ago. Her gaze cast downward toward her brother, ignoring his comment. Her color had faded to a sickly hue and she sat, petrified. Tears like little gems clung to her lashes.

Aaron was gone.

She couldn't breathe. She was dying.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi! I'm back! I took a week off for my birthday as a little present to myself. I hope you like this hastily made chapter c: Slight language warning and me pretending to know things warning.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven - Weeping Here in the Ruins

The Avengers had lost. The Abomination escaped with whatever information he was looking for and hundreds had lost their lives. When Coulson fell they knew who to seek justice from. In this case, they hadn't just lost a team mate but they had also failed to stop this act of terrorism from occurring. As soon as the Abomination – Formerly Emil Blonksy – disappeared, comms went back up immediately. Fury gleaned what he could from his widespread intelligence network but there was no trace of Emil.

"How could a giant, green, _fish_ guy just vanish, Fury? Riddle me this!" Tony shouted into his radio phone. He had stripped off the remainder of his armor and a young medical worker examined his left arm. He prodded Tony's shoulder.

"Ow! Can you- I'm sorry, hold on." He held the radio phone to his chest. "Can you not do that right now? I'm kind of in the middle of something?"

"S-sorry, it's just I think it might be dislocated." The man stammered, clearly inexperienced with handling such a feisty patient. "I'm trying to help you, sir."

"Help? How about some bourbon? Have you got any bourbon in that cute, little over-the-shoulder bag?"

"We stopped carrying around liquor after the Civil War, sir." The man stuttered.

"Oh, how clever." Tony simpered. "Leave. Go. Go _help_ someone else, please."

"Bourbon? I thought you promised Pepper you would stay away from the hard stuff." Natasha hummed. She had been standing by, overseeing the evacuation. Tony looked affronted, the radio still clasped to his chest.

"I think, under the circumstances, I am allowed to at least joke about jumping off of the wagon." He hissed. She raised an eyebrow and rounded on him. She shooed the young man away, assuring him that Tony would be just fine. The Iron Avenger resumed his phone call.

"Look, I've already got all of my best people on this and we're not getting anything back." Natasha wound her hands around his upper arm. "This guy fell off the face of the earth. I need you to send someone down here who can identify whatever tech he used block all communication. Oh, and compile anything you know about teleportation. Of course, I'm serious." Tony screwed up his face and tapped the little radio on his forehead in frustration. "Well, how would _you_ explain how he got away? _Yes,_ I'm sure that's what happened. Just, do me a favor and- Ahh, ow!" He wailed in pain as she set his arm back into the socket. The slick _pop_ was satisfying to the redhead. She could tell from experience that she had replaced it properly.

"Feel better?" She asked.

"No." He squeaked.

"It will." She called over her shoulder as she sauntered off. "Get it in a sling."

"You're a doll!" He sarcastically called back, protectively holding his arm. "A doll made of rabies and hatred." He murmured to himself.

* * *

Bruce patiently dressed the wound of the mechanic beneath him. They had set up a second field treatment area on the tarmac and he was doing what he could. He sighed and finished up the temporary bandaging. They both knew she would probably lose the leg. It was a silently agreed upon truce that neither of them mention it. He gave her an insecure nod when she thanked him. Two paramedics took her away on a stretcher to be evacuated. As he watched her leave, Steve approached him. He looked tired and defeated. Several spotlights that had been set up around the tarmac shone down on them, highlighting their dirty, warworn features.

"Dr. Banner." He greeted.

"Hey." Bruce washed his hands in a nearby basin. They were sticky with someone else's blood and it nauseated him, slightly. "How bad is it?" His question was vague but they both knew what he meant.

"I think you know." The Captain sorrowfully replied. The wreckage of the hospital and the barracks smoldered behind them. The baying of search and rescue dogs could be heard in the distance.

"You're right. Stupid question." He replied, drying his hands. A long silence passed between the two men.

"You're certain about what you saw down there?" Steve asked, finally. Bruce scoffed, displeased that Steve would question what he saw. Steve clarified. "Tony can't find a trace of Emil anywhere in the last five years. Even with Fury's help they have no idea where this guy came from."

"Thor corroborated everything I said." Bruce pointed out, impatiently. He ended the conversation by turning his back to the Captain. He leaned against the basin and cursed. Steve took that as his cue to go. Amira was also there with him in the command center. He just wasn't sure if Steve had even talked to her yet. Everyone had scattered to help out while she grieved.

He was anxious about seeing her in the aftermath of what happened. Did she blame him? She had said it was not his fault but they always said that. It's not that he had never lost one before. Working in India, he saw his share of brutal wounds gone untreated for too long and horrible industrial accidents. This was different. He had to see her face everyday from now on. He had to witness her grief. He couldn't apologize and walk away forever from this one. Suddenly memories flickered in his mind's eye.

A smile and a laugh. A bouquet of daffodils. A soft hand on his. A kiss that tastes faintly of coffee.

" _You're always so serious, Bruce. You're lucky that frown of yours is so becoming._ "

His fist slammed down on the basin causing the water to slosh. He shortly reigned his temper in, shaming himself for letting his anger overcome him.

"Betty." He whispered. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He wished he could forget her laugh, he could hear it so keenly even now. He pushed those memories away. They made his chest tight and his pulse rise. He had to keep _that_ part of him at bay. He decided to distract himself by checking on Amira. He got the feeling she was still running around with an open wound in her side.

When he found her, she wasn't running around at all. She was sat at the edge of the tarmac next to Aaron. His body had been covered by a dark brown blanket. Her little body was folded beside him. She had drawn her knees to her chest and crossed her ankles. Her neck was craned at an uncomfortable looking angle. He couldn't be surprised. She was watching the stars.

"Hey." He ventured, leaning against the bed of an abandoned military truck.

"Hey, Bruce." In the light he could see the glass shimmering in the small cuts on her face.

"You're haven't had that looked yet, have you?" Bruce mentioned. She sighed.

"I can't abandon him." Her voice was broken and low. Bruce stood behind her. She couldn't see the expression on his face but his silence made his confusion evident.

"We're Jewish. It's kind of a thing. Shemira." She explained. "His soul is, like, confused and _hovering_ above his body, I guess. I have to comfort it. Or him. Depends on whether or not you believe souls have genders." Her tone betrayed her shaken faith. She made each word sound more farcical than the last.

As a scientist, Bruce found the notion of a confused soul a little strange but he wouldn't say as much. He knew religion to be a difficult topic of discussion. He set his medical bag on the bed of the abandoned olive colored truck.

"We can do it here." He offered. She dropped her head, sensing he wouldn't leave her be and rose to stand.

"If you insist."

"Does it hurt?" He dumbly asked. She crossed over to him.

"A bit." She clarified. She had stopped crying recently. Her eyes were still reddened. He wondered at how serene she seemed and felt a little disgusted with himself for examining her mourning so closely. Who was he to judge her? He was the most emotionally dysfunctional person he knew.

"Have a seat. We'll take care of it." He said gruffly, rousing himself from his musings. He patted the truck bed. Amira carefully lifted herself up and onto the surface, her legs swinging over the side. He saw her wince when she twisted her body to settle herself better.

"Do you want something for the pain?"

"I'm a big girl." She said. Bruce raised his eyebrows at her and he received a shrug in response. She was looking away from him, guarding herself.

"Let's see the damage." She looked at him skeptically for a moment before removing her utilitarian vest, revealing the skin tight layer of protective black spandex material she wore underneath. He could see the afflicted area now. The blood had dried and crusted around the material. Removing it wouldn't be pleasant for her. Before he could mention to her that she should take care with her shirt, she pulled the black layer off. The blooded area crackled quietly as it peeled away from her skin. She growled and ripped it off quickly, leaving her clad in only a very functional white sports bra. The full extent of the damage was revealed to Bruce. He sucked in an empathetic hiss as he thumbed the flesh just below the fabric of her bra.

"Luckily, it's only superficial. We might be able to get away with using butterfly closures instead of stitches." He declared as he rummaged through his bag.

"What a relief." She drawled. He nodded and handed her his sterilized forceps to hold onto while he donned a pair of rubber gloves. The snapping of the glove on his wrist made her jump. He perched himself on the edge of his chair and reached for his forceps. Amira handed them over reluctantly.

"Doctors make you nervous?" He had a habit of asking questions that bordered on being statements. He scanned her waist for debris; his gloved hands going over every cut. He was an intruder now. "Lean back." he murmured. The brunette complied. She reclined and let her hands rest behind her, supporting her.

"I try to avoid them, if I can. Ah! Cold. Cold." She cringed at the offending little alcohol soaked cotton ball he applied to her skin. He mumbled an apology. "You're not a doctor, though. I mean, you are. You _are_ a doctor but you're-" She growled and wrinkled her nose. "You're alright." Was all she could come up with. He gave her a crooked smirk. She put her foot in her mouth more often than Tony did and she did it without Tony's ability to recover. He plucked the first bit of glass from her side. She did not react.

"You're alright too, for a mutant." Dr. Banner quipped. "I've only ever met two, including you, so I don't have much to go on." She jerked and growled; another little piece of glass clinked into the bowl he set aside. "That was a particularly nasty bit." He idly commented.

"Who was it? We all know each other, you know." She lightly joked. It almost seemed as though she was trying to divert her attention from the prodding metal tool on her body.

"You would probably know him as 'Wolverine'." Bruce distractedly explained.

"I never met him but I've heard the stories of how difficult he can be" She replied. He hummed in agreement but returned to work for a few moments in silence stopping only to remove his glasses to wipe his brow.

"Do you-" He paused thinking over his words carefully. "Would you mind telling me what happened?" He gestured to her wounds. She sucked in a breath and shook her head.

"That _thing_ was beating on you pretty bad." She stated naturally. "I tried to distract him and he kind of knocked me over. I slid through a few feet of busted glass." Bruce looked at her hard in the eyes. He couldn't read her.

"You know you didn't have to do that, right? I'm sort of indestructible when I get like that." He gently chided. Amira ran a hand through her coffee colored curls and shook her head a second time.

"Sort of?" She repeated. "You were out cold. He was about to go for the kill." She explained. He was standing so close to her he could see that her bottom lip had split. Bruce tensed his jaw. He _couldn't_ die when he was like that, it was impossible.

" _That wouldn't stop Emil from trying_ _._ " Bruce mused. Though Emil's current condition was obtained through his own wrongdoing, Bruce still pitied him. In many ways his curse was far crueler than his own. He never got to change back into a man.

"We're team mates, Bruce. You stepped in for me without thinking about it." He choked on something- some words he couldn't form. "You've already paid it forward." He couldn't remember what he had wanted to tell her. She let a sad smile grace her features.

"What you did for Aaron- I could never thank you enough." She said meaningfully, locking his gaze within hers. Bruce tried to say something in reply but his throat felt so suddenly dry. He blushed and tore his amber eyes away from hers.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. _Clink_. Another glass shard removed. She exhaled a breathy laugh.

"There wasn't anything more anyone could do. Sometimes a person gets really hurt and they just," She began matter-of-factly, "they just die." She finished, her voice just a shred of a whisper. She swallowed and gained her resolve back. "Sometimes that person is your brother." He frowned as he affixed a layer of gauze to her rib cage.

Amira thanked him. He nodded and gestured towards her shoulder. She turned slightly away from him so that he could access that part of her. He stood up from his chair to closer study her shoulder. As his left hand hovered over the delicate skin of her neck she shivered. The shy doctor recoiled almost imperceptibly. He had to remind himself he was a professional. Quickly, he regained his composure and rested his left hand just around the glass-laden area at the sharpest point of her shoulders. He made quick work of it; it wasn't as bad as her torso. They both remained silent but he could see her pulse pounding in her neck.

" _Anxious._ " He thought. " _Put her at ease. Have a shred of bedside manner,_ _Bruce_ _._ "

"Are you okay?" He asked awkwardly; shifting the medical tape nervously in his hand.

"I'm fine." Any of her former animated self drained away. He put the finishing touches on her repaired shoulder.

"You don't have to- I was sitting right next to you." He halted when he noticed she no longer staring at her shoulder but at him. The look on her face was unreadable yet again.

"W _hy did I try to talk about feelings? I am not that kind of doctor._ " He inwardly chastised himself. " _Just go back to what you were doing and leave it._ "

He muttered an apology and went back to work, sweeping her hair off of her face, sterilizing, examining, and removing. The environment was tense, due to their closeness so he tried to work quickly. He placed the final bit of bandage on her cheek after a few minutes of arduous extraction.

"The good news is there shouldn't be any scarring – on your face, at least." He sighed while he peeled off his gloves. He was able to put some space between himself and this woman, much to his relief.

"At least I'll still be beautiful." She flatly said as she carefully hopped down from the truck bed. He frowned, inspecting the bandage on her face.

He inched closer, once again, to press down on a wayward piece of tape there when he noticed a tear slip past his fingers. His eyes snapped to hers. Another tear began to fall. Without thinking he gently brushed it away with his thumb in an attempt to keep it from wetting her bandages.

"I told you I could give you something for the pain. Was it that bad?" Amira ignored his inquiry and instead set her gaze on Bruce. He held his breath. Something told him this wasn't about the pain of her injuries.

"You know the phrase 'what have I got to lose?'" Her breath hitched. Bruce nodded. Another tear trailed down her cheek. She inhaled sharply and continued. "All I can think is, that is my reality. I have _nothing_ left, Bruce." Her tears started to flow freely and she did not bother to wipe them away, allowing them to slip down the curve of her face. The tip of her nose pinkened and her eyebrows twitched with the strain of keeping what composure she had left. "Things aren't going to be okay. _I'm_ not going to be okay." She cried. The intensity of her feelings made her quiver.

He panicked. He couldn't put a band-aid on _this_. He swallowed thickly trying to remember how a _normal_ human behaved in a situation like this. His conscience warned him to walk away. His accident screwed up a lot of his life but he still had a heart. He couldn't bring himself to be cold to her. Not like this. Not on the day she lost her brother.

Bruce bent down to stiffly let his arms wind around her shoulders, taking care to avoid her bandages. It felt alien yet, somehow so familiar to comfort someone else. He hadn't done anything like this since before his accident. Slowly she raised her arms up behind him, and hooked her hands on his shoulders. Her crying had turned to full fledged weeping and her hold on him became tighter and more desperate.

He hadn't been this uncomfortable in a very long time. He cursed himself. He hadn't been this uncomfortable in a long time because he was smart enough to avoid getting close to other people. He knew befriending Tony was going to be a slippery slope. She quaked in his grasp. Without thinking, he passed a hand over her hair and let it rest at the base of her skull. With a crying person in his arms he felt incredibly out of his depth so he stuck to consoling her with the little phrases one uttered to another in need of comfort. Slowly, the intimacy of the act felt less and less alien to him, which scared him, slightly.

Her bout of weeping tapered off slowly into occasional sobs. Amira slowly relinquished her grip on him and raised her head off of his shoulder. She choked out a thank you. He merely nodded, he was not sure if he should look her in the eyes. She sighed deeply and fully.

"It wasn't my intention to burden you with that." She stated plainly, one arm bent at the elbow to hold onto the other. She appeared to feel foolish.

"Uh, it's no problem. Anytime." He stammered. Amira snorted and shook her head. Her hand balled into a fist and she lightly tapped her forehead. Bruce look quizzically at her but she didn't appear to have any intention of explaining. She simply apologized again and collected her over shirt. She was about to take her place beside Aaron when she turned to Bruce.

"Thanks." Bruce shook his head and set about putting away his supplies. "I mean it. Thanks. For all of it. Everything. Taking care of the glass, letting me ugly-cry all over you," She stopped, "and for what you did for Aaron. I could never repay you, Bruce." At the mention of Aaron he bowed his head and gave a weak nod. She only smiled in return and stood up on her toes to plant a thankful kiss on his jaw. He could feel her breath tickle his stubble. She paused there for a second, her face centimeters from his, before shaking her head and laughing to herself. He thought he might turn to stone were it not for the tingle and blooming warmth where her lips brushed his face.

"And I am going to be okay. Probably." She tacked on.

Bruce's mind reeled. He couldn't stop feeling her warm hands on his shoulders. He couldn't ignore the aching of that little spot on his jaw where she kissed him. His mind was awash with questions. Did he enjoy comforting another person so much because it made him feel human again? Or did he feel human again because he was comforting _her_? He realized that he was holding his face and immediately wrenched his hand down, feeling like an idiot. He didn't really want to ruminate on the thought of the little kiss much longer so he walked away, leaving Amira to her vigil and her stars.

* * *

Aaron had always thought that funerals were dreadfully boring. Thinking of him, Amira saw to it that his was short and sweet. Steve assured her that she must bury Aaron before they do a full debriefing. Tony had his most capable assistants help her arrange for his burial in Tel Aviv. The affair was seen to the very next day in the same cemetery their own mother was laid to rest. If she knew where her father was, she might have called him to let him know what had happened but she hadn't seen him since they parted ways when she and Aaron left for school. The Avengers had all attended, though she insisted to them that it was not their obligation. She childishly stumbled through the Hebrew prayers and cursed her unstudied tongue. Aaron was fluent, she remembered. She almost threw up on the finely manicured grass when she realized she would never hear him speak again.

After the service was ended and Amira had made a visit to her mother's grave, the seven mourners, like a flock of blackbirds, consorted with one another where Aaron had just been newly interred. Amira retrieved a small jagged rock that she had pocketed in New Mexico and kept ever since the attack. She rolled it around in her palm before placing it gently on Aaron's modest headstone. Tears slipped past her eyelashes and fell silently down her cheeks. It was the last act of goodbye she would commit. Bruce, only vaguely familiar with Jewish custom, picked up a round stone nestled in the grass and went to set it softly next to hers. Amira stopped him by taking the stone tenderly from his fingers.

"With the left hand." She chuckled. The sound broke forth from her aching throat like water. She clasped his left hand in hers. He watched her intently as she pressed the stone into his palm. When she closed his fingers around it, he gave her a look of uncertainty. It was as if he were curious whether there were anymore instructions he should be aware of. She sniffed and urged him on with a cautious smile. He put the stone in it's proper place next to hers and said nothing.

They had not known each other long enough for any of them to trade stories about Aaron or reminisce. In fact, the moment was rather awkward for all of them. She had barely just met Thor and there he was, towering over the rest of them, looking out of place in a black suit and tie. In fact, all of the Avenger's looked odd to her in funeral attire.

"Thanks again, guys. Aaron would have been happy to see you all here." Amira said to the others. They all nodded and mumbled pleasantries. Natasha, standing near to her, reached over and squeezed her upper arm.

"That's not true." She realized with a smile. "He would've felt sorry that he put you through something as awful as a funeral." At this, she received some pitiful, stiff laughter. She couldn't blame them for being so quiet. They were all thinking about what they had seen yesterday and how powerless they had all been to stop it. It was silent among them for a long time.

"I just don't get it." Clint piped up, unable to keep his thought contained. "What was this guy's motive?"

"The same as anyone else's. Money. Power." Natasha replied, as if it were obvious. "Same old bad guy shtick."

"My best people poured over the information we have. It looks like he dumped everything in Desert Base's system into an untraceable database somewhere." Tony mentioned.

" _Everything_? You realize that's the entire amassed history of all weapons development projects that the American government as ever undergone, don't you?" Bruce said in disbelief. "It would have taken the most advanced computing system half a day to process and transfer that much information. Emil did that in a matter of hours. It can't be possible." He concluded.

"And the way he just blinked out of existence when we were underground-" Amira toyed with her bottom lip, her brow furrowed. "It was like magic." She whispered. Tony shook his head and raised a finger.

"Not magic. There's no such thing as magic." He murmured.

"Magic is as common as breathing in Asgard, Stark. How can you say it is not real when you have experienced it for yourself?" Thor crossed his arms and gave Tony a sporting grin.

"Clarke's third law."

"I'm sorry?" Natasha snipped, as if Tony were speaking Greek.

"Tony, please." Bruce groaned.

"Clarke's third law." He insisted.

"Tony that's science _fiction_. Not science." Bruce snorted. To the rest of them, they might as well have been arguing The Next Generation versus The Original Series. It was incomprehensible.

"I don't see how it's not relevant. Clarke's third law is as follows: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Tony recited proudly. "I know what the cutting edge of science looks like- I _am_ the cutting edge of science. You got an edge? I'll cut it!" He madly gesticulated in Bruce's direction. "The point is, the most advanced stuff I have is miles behind what this guy is packing."

"We'll debrief at the tower." Steve declared, seemingly energized by the prospect of chasing down Emil. The whole group seemed to perk up a bit.

"Bruce and I will do a little digging. I get the feeling that this whole thing was just a precursor for something infinitely more shitty." Amira didn't like the sense of dread that crept up on her at Tony's words. She believed him, but what could be worse than losing Aaron?

* * *

 **Oohh, eleven chapters in and we finally have a plot! How novel! It'll be going a little fast after this but not much, I think haha. I'm unhappy with the pacing, though. Maybe one day I'll rewrite it! Haven't even finished it and I'm already thinking about it!**

 **By the way, Bruce seems like he would favor The Original Series where Tony prefers TNG. I side with Tony, personally.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of Marvel's or Tonka Toys hehe.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve - I Am Jealous of the Pleiades

"Tony!" Pepper Potts cried as her no-nonsense heels clicked across the helipad and tendrils of her strawberry-blonde hair that slipped loose of their binding whipped around her head in the harsh breeze. The engines of the quin jet whirred to quiet. She wrapped Tony up in a tight embrace. He yelped and laughed slightly when she jostled his tender arm. "I came as soon as I could."

"Easy, Pep. I'm a china doll not a Tonka truck." He joked, gesturing to his sling. Pepper looked lost in her elation that Tony was unhurt. Tony's breath was stolen in the wake of her smile; Bruce could see it plainly on his face and he felt a ripening sense of loneliness within himself at their reunion. Pepper wiped her shining eyes and shook her head.

"Shut up." She cupped his cheeks and kissed Tony soundly. Bruce felt his chest tighten and looked away, feeling like an intruder on their privacy. The rest of the Avengers did the same. They had just arrived back from Israel, still in their black regalia.

"Whoa, I should get blown up more often." He said, his eyes fixated on her lips. Her eyes lit up.

"That is _not_ funny." She chided, still binding him in a hug. After smoothing down the front of his suit jacket she looked to the six behind Tony. She fixed her gaze on Amira first. Pepper, ever the planner, would go directly to her to give her condolences. She stepped away from Tony, her hand slipping from his, to introduce herself.

"You must be Amira." She tenderly said, her voice laden with proper and genuine empathy. Amira confirmed with a shy nod. They took one another's hands. Pepper conversed with her quietly and Bruce was struck with déjà vu. Recently, they had all met on this very helipad. She was so wilted compared to the Amira that had found amusement in his irritation only two days ago. There were scratches and yellowing bruises running up and down her arm and shoulder. Her face still bore a bandage. The funeral attendants back in Tel Aviv had subtly stared at her and whispered to one another. He had to move beside her to block their view so that they couldn't gawk directly. It was bad enough that she had just lost a brother; she didn't need to be eyeballed too.

"We should change and meet in Tony's lab." Steve said after everyone had greeted Pepper. He was on edge, it was evident in his tone. He, like everyone else, wanted to swap information and hypothesize about the attack. They followed the tall blonde man into the building, past the lounge and into the elevators.

Everyone else had got off where they needed to, leaving Bruce and Amira quietly padding down the hallway to their respective rooms. He was carrying his satchel and Amira was hauling her duffel bag.

"Are your cuts bothering you?" He asked her. She shook her head.

"They feel better, thanks to you." She replied, her eyes blankly staring forward. She hadn't slept. None of them had. They both shared dark coloring beneath their eyes. He hummed a note that could be translated as 'that's good to hear'. They arrived at their rooms. It seemed as if they weren't going to say anything more to one another and Bruce could deal with that. He barely knew what to say to her half the time anyway. He put his back to her, determined to slip into his room without garnering her notice.

"May I-" She hesitated and he whirled around to look at her. "May I ask you a favor?" She was clutching the straps of her duffel bag tightly and wrinkling her nose to a small degree. Bruce started, gripping his satchel defensively.

"Sure." He said quietly before shaking out of the odd confusion that had settled upon him. "Yes. Of course." She released a sigh, relieved.

"It's nothing huge, I promise." She flashed her keycard and slid it through the reader. "Wait right there." She left her door hanging open and rushed into her dark quarters. Bruce, now very concerned at what he had just agreed to, craned his neck to get a glimpse of what she was doing. He could hear her mumbling to herself and rustling. Soon, she reappeared with what Bruce recognized as a worn composition notebook. She thrusted it towards him.

"Give this to Steve, please. If it isn't too much trouble." She added on, stammering. When he took it from her hands, he could see that she was still wearing her Halo cuff. He relinquished a small chuckle.

"What is it, if I may?" " _English homework?_ "

"It's my report." She said. She stood across from him in her doorway. Her stockings, though newly purchased, had a run creeping up the side of her calf. She didn't seem to be able to get away with wearing stockings without ruining them.

"It should be complete but you can fill in any gaps where you find them." Instead of looking at him while she spoke, she settled for fiddling with a bit of unstuck tape from her bandages. Bruce stared down at the notebook and then at her, his wheels turning.

"You're not going to debriefing." He realized.

"No. No I'm not." She replied sheepishly. "I thought about it for awhile and-" She bit her lip and glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. There came a sigh and she continued. "I'm going to observe shiva."

"Oh."

"I wasn't sure if wanted to do it. I wrote up my report in case I did. And, well, I am so..." She trailed off, looking down at her shoeless feet.

"You don't want to come down? It might be better if-"

"Please don't." Her teeth were bared slightly and she blinked a few times in rapid succession. She had snapped at him.

"I didn't mean to upset you." He said carefully. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure if he actually was sorry but it meant nothing to him to lie about it. She shook her head and ran a hand through her dark curls.

"No, please don't be. You're right and if I were a better person I would go, but I'm not." Amira was quiet now and contrite. She looked at him, as if expecting some sort of response. He didn't have one for her so she elaborated.

"It's just- Everything inside me is so _fucked up_ right now and I'm not emotionally equipped to go down there and pretend." Her eyes held his captive as she choked out every word. "I need some time." She enunciated, looking sorrowful and desperate. He wanted to reach out to her somehow but he wasn't certain how or why.

"They will understand." He then turned to leave.

"My handwriting can sometimes be illegible." She said, hurriedly. He faced her again, now a few steps down the hall. "I tried not to rush but if you can't read it just-" Her expression changed from surprise to despair so rapidly. And then, after a moment, she smiled the most astonishing, melancholic smile he had ever seen.

"I was about to say that you could ask Aaron to decipher it for you." She closed her eyes. He could see her eyelids twitching, trying to keep everything at bay.

"Amira-" He began.

"Just have JARVIS let me know, okay?" She said. Her voice cracked.

"Amira." He pleaded as he stepped toward her. She was crying again.

"Goodbye, Dr. Banner." Was all she said before she fled into her room and shut her door soundly.

Bruce's mouth hung slightly ajar but he soon corrected it. If she wanted to be left alone, he was more than happy to oblige her. The last thing needed right now was to get swept up in her hurricane of tears and ruined stockings and devastated smiles.

* * *

She slammed the door behind her and pounded her fists mercilessly onto her thighs. After she was sure that Bruce had left her door she let loose a mournful wail. She leaned against the door and allowed herself to slide down to the floor while she gravely replayed Aarons final moments in her head. As she held herself, her fingernails dug into the tender flesh of her upper arms. She could feel her cuts screaming in pain where she upset them but she thrived on the sensation. Everything else was upheaved and ruined but pain was a familiar constant. There was also something incredibly purifying about having a brutal cry. Eventually, her howling tapered off into sobs and her sobs faded to sniffling.

There she sat in her dark room, only aware of far-away things, where she could only vaguely sort out the logistics of dealing with Aaron's death. Where do his personal items go? How do I tell his friends? What about Dad?

What about Dad?

She wished she had something heavy and fragile to heft into the wall at this moment.

She fiercely tried to think of something- anything else so she thought of how terse she had been with him. How he had reacted when she admitted her cowardice and how she had slammed her door in his face. What he must think of her now. She was languishing in her room while the rest of them saved the world. Amira growled to herself. This train of thought felt somehow worse than the last.

"They will understand." She repeated his words from before. He sounded honest, at least, and she hoped he was right.

Determined to think of it no longer, she set into the task of preparing her room for shiva. She rose from her spot and grabbed the linens off of her bed. She dragged them into the bathroom and draped them as best as she could over the mirror there. She exited the bathroom and spied a standing mirror by her bed. She used the fitted sheet to cover it. She was doing her best to recreate the exact environment that had been made in her childhood home when her mother died. She couldn't remember the details like a good Jewish girl ought to. Aaron would tease her for that.

Finally, she put all of her strength into sliding the glass coffee table across the tile floor, creating a decent space for her to use. She snatched a decorative pillow off of her sofa and let it drop into the cleared area. Satisfied, she grabbed the comforter that had been abandoned on the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. A prayer would have been normally said at this time but she didn't know the words so she bypassed it and settled for plopping down on the decorative pillow.

Her eyes burned from the crying and she could hardly keep them open any longer. She caved in, letting her head rest on her singular little pillow and spreading out on the cool floor with the fluffy, white comforter enveloping her. In the meek light of the afternoon, before the sun was set, she could make out little spinning motes of dust on the floor. She played at them with her fingers and numbly thought about what it would be like to sit somewhere, forgotten, for so long that dust clung to you.

She began to fall asleep in her malaise. The floor would do. She couldn't be bothered to drag herself to bed. She pulled her comforter tighter around her cheeks. A familiar smell tickled her nose. It smelled just like Bruce- like his clothes that he kept in his satchel. She remembered the relief his clean laundry gave her in that stinking vault they had been locked in. She pressed the soft material closer to her face, praying that the smell would protect her from her nightmares.

* * *

"It was some sort of God complex-fueled blitzkrieg. He had the nerve to go on waxing poetic- talking about ethics asif he hadn't killed all of those people. He made Jim Jones sound sane." Bruce still clutched Amira's report under his arm as he spoke. The lights had been dimmed in the lab so that every Avenger present could better see the ethereal blue transparent projection screens that hovered above where they all sat. They emitted a hum that Bruce normally found a little soothing.

"So what? He's just a rogue nutjob? Clint asked. He was reclined very carelessly in his chair, arms behind his head.

"Ah, ah, not _just_ a rogue nutjob." Tony said, wagging his finger. "A rogue nutjob with immensely advanced tech. A nut job who tossed aside Mjollnir like it was a doily." At the mention of his legendary weapon being moved so effortlessly, Thor sulked.

"This wasn't a play by a crazy person. It doesn't add up. It was too precise." Steve supplied.

"I don't know, Cap. Loki amassed an inter-dimensional army and nearly brought earth to it's knees and we all know that guy, well- let's just say he was a few bloomers short of a panty raid."

"Though I understand very little of what you just said, Stark, I can only assume it was disparaging my little brother."

"Emil wasn't always like this. That's the thing. The day he was turned into-" Bruce paused, unsure of how to describe Emil since their conditions were so similar, "The day he became the Abomination he was breaking into Desert Base. His motivations were the same as any other spy's. He was going to steal information and sell it. It was pretty routine."

"You're telling us all of this _now_ , Dr. Banner?" Natasha probed. She was sitting in the shadows across from him, her ankles daintily crossed under the table and her eyes narrowed and shining with the pale blue glow of the projections. Bruce lowered his head and sighed. He felt hot and uncomfortable with every other person's gaze so fixed on him. He took a deep breath and began to explain.

"I had been working on a prototype- a device that would kill me. The idea was that it would dose me with enough gamma radiation to vaporize me." He didn't want to see their faces when he mentioned trying to kill himself again. They would never understand what suffering he felt. It wasn't fair how shocked and saddened they were by the piteous Bruce Banner.

"Of course, he didn't know the purpose of the machine. He probably just figured that a machine that required a maximum security clearance to even _look at_ was worth something. He accidentally activated it, exposing him to the gamma radiation instead. His current form is the result of that tampering."

"I tried to stop him and he beat me." Bruce finished somberly. He folded his hands over Amira's notebook, where he had placed it on the table in front of him. "Just like he beat me two days ago."

Clint choked on a sip of water he had just taken from his Stark Tech mug and the rest of the Avengers looked on in a confusion that could be mistaken for offense if one had just walked into the room. Much stronger than his mild amusement at their faces, was the fear that he- that the Hulk was defeated. He was so sure he couldn't be killed, however, if he could be knocked out, there had to be several more possibilities. He could see it in their eyes, as well. There was the fear in them, as well, that something could trounce their 'muscle'.

"I can't really _remember_." Bruce said, feeling helpless. "That is to say, I don't know how-" He furrowed his brow and chewed on the tip of his thumb, overwhelmed by the eyes boring into him, searching for answers that he didn't have.

"Having had a bout with the Hulk before, it was obvious that this creature was much more agile. It was no easy feat besting it." Thor said. Bruce ignored the placating tone that he took and, instead, busied himself with fighting through the fog that lingered over those moments after he woke up. He didn't even remember seeing Thor fight.

"Hey, don't sweat it, Banner." Tony said. His chin was tilted down and he looked sympathetically at Bruce. "You were caught off guard. We know what we're up against now." Though he knew that this was an attempt by Tony to comfort him, the only effect that it had was angering him mildly.

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters." Bruce replied roughly, an edge creeping into his voice suggesting his anxiety. "He was different this time. He _said_ something." He flipped through Amira's report until he came across the entry that detailed their encounter with Emil. "Here. Here she wrote his words."

Amira's uncanny abilities of recollection left him grateful. She had recorded just this line exactly as he had said it. As if she had remembered it as the only thing of importance he had said. The rest of the Avengers moved in closer to get a glimpse of the dog-eared notebook.

"My _master_ has shown my much." Bruce recited. "I see everything for what it is now." When he looked up from the page the rest of his team were looking from one another, the recognition blooming in their eyes.

"He's working for someone then."

"He's not just working for someone, Nat. He's _serving_ someone." Clint parried. "He specified that he had a _master,_ not a boss."

"We have a lead here." Steve said, his lips pressed into a stern line when he paused. "I think it's time we split and follow up on any contacts that might know anything about an organization or person with the kind of technology capable of hiding this guy for so long." The Avenger's nodded and set about collecting up their effects, each knowing who they would correspond with.

"Ten bucks says it's Hydra. It's always Hydra." Tony muttered to Clint who shook his head and scoffed.

"You're on, Stark." And they shook hands like gentlemen.

As the rest of the Avengers talked strategy, Bruce thumbed through Amira's incredibly detailed report. It was written in a very rigid style and didn't leave out a single instance, lending to her professionalism. Her handwriting wasn't as bad as she had said either, probably as a result of her efforts to make it legible. She described the twisting corridors and the dead man at the end of the hallway just as he remembered them. When he had finished reading the page that detailed their encounter with Emil, he was shaken loose from his thoughts when he realized that he had been asked a question.

"Sorry?" Bruce asked. He removed his glasses and looked up at the standing Steve Rogers.

"Did she say why she wasn't coming down?" Steve said as he leaned against the table they all sat around, his hands balled into fists that supported him.

"Uh, yeah." Bruce tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket. "She's sitting shiva." He supplied, turning over the composition notebook in his hands. "For Aaron."

"Sitting shiva? This is yet another earth custom I am unfamiliar with. You Midgardians amaze me with the depth of your culture." Thor said throwing an arm up, still sitting, legs akimbo, in his chair.

"How long?" Steve said, ignoring Thor. Bruce shrugged.

"I doubt she'll sit for the full seven days. I think she just needs some time." Bruce repeated her words from before.

"Should we not be joining her? If this is, indeed, a mourning ritual?" The great blonde Asgardian insisted, looking somewhat offended that no one else was taking his side.

"It's not for us. It's specific to the deceased's close relatives. Anyone apart of the nuclear family would participate." Natasha, becoming increasingly impatient, tried to clamp down on her irritation in order to educate Thor.

"And there is the small matter of being Jewish, which, I'm certain none of us are." Tony said. He had his back turned to the group while he waved and prodded the air, manipulating his holographic projection.

"Now you speak of Druids!"

"I said _Jewish_. _"_

"I must admit my confusion. Has anyone yet informed Amira that she is nuclear?" The entire Avengers squad groaned all at once at Thor's misunderstanding.

"That's it, I'm outta here." Widow said, her arms thrown up in surrender. "Let's go, Barton."

"Y'know what, big guy? Why don't we table it for now and I'll explain it all later, okay?" Clint patted Thor on the soldier, as if the hulking man were a perplexed child. Thor nodded and bade him goodbye. He was off, confident that Heimdall would have no trouble setting his sights on this unknown master. Clint was out the door behind his fiery companion. Soon, Steve had followed behind them, saying something about paying a call on some friends at Washington.

Tony and Bruce were left alone in the lab to their own devices just as they were before Amira had come and the Abomination had destroyed Desert Base. Tony was sniffing around in several hundred different government databases, an action which he assured Bruce was 'totally legit'. It benefited Bruce not to think _too_ hard about it. They utilized the hours of waiting for results by digging through old records and chatting. The moonless night came and draped it's blank mantle over the city. After an eternity of sifting through anything that they could glean information from, Bruce had fallen blissfully asleep. His cheek was cradled in his hand where he sat at his desk and his hair was mussed from many an anxious tousling.

"Oh, Banner, you lucky dog." Tony chortled. Bruce jumped with a snort. The Iron Avenger was entertaining himself with one of his glass tablets. After being rudely awoken, Bruce passed his hand over his face and hurriedly put on his glasses.

"Wha? What are you talking about?" His voice was thick with a coarse, post-nap quality.

"Tell me, big guy," Tony slid the glass tablet in front of Bruce so that he could examine it, "what's it like owing a life debt?"

Bruce's vision was still cloudy from sleep, and the brightness of the screen repelled him.

"There, there, there!" Tony said, his words expelled so quickly that they formed one long exclamation. He pressed a finger on the glass. "Watch closely."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. The gray-scale shapes danced before his eyes and he recognized the scene. It was the Hulk fighting the Abomination. The much larger Emil had swung Bruce around before sending him crashing into the entrance to the command center. Bruce cringed. He hated watching himself when he was like that. Emil hoisted a massive chunk of debris over his head and was walking it over to where the unconscious Hulk was laying.

"Why are you showing me this?" Bruce complained. Tony shushed him.

"Here it comes."

Suddenly, Emil seemed to lose interest in Bruce. He dropped his sharp piece of rubble and set off in a different direction. Tony guided his middle finger up the side of the panel, turning the volume up.

"A little mouse in my pantry? I cannot abide it!" The tinny sound of Emil's voice through the speakers captivated Bruce. He hadn't read anything like this in Amira's report. The giant green beast crashed across the room, sending desks flying in his path.

"So, it is a clever mouse."

 _'Amira.'_ He knew it had to be her. She must have distracted him somehow so he wouldn't try to crush the Hulk's head with a rock. Emil headed off in a different direction, throwing rubble everywhere. Tony pressed a button on the corner that changed to a different camera with a new angle. The Abomination stopped and drew in a long sniff. Tony tapped the screen to pause it.

"Right there." He pointed to a small dark spot on the feed. "Watch when I play." He tapped it again.

It was Amira, her cloak flickering like an old television with bad reception. She was folded up, hiding behind a desk. Bruce's heart was raked at and squeezed by the claws of an unnamed feeling. He didn't know if he was guilty, anxious, or angry. Perhaps he was all of those things at once. Emil raised a leviathan fist to crush her and, even though Bruce knew she was alive and well in her room, he grit his teeth so hard that they ached as he witnessed her last minute leap to safety.

"Ah, there's the wretched thing." Sang the Emil through the speakers. He could not make himself look away. The cruel monster had allowed her to stand just long enough for him to fling her across the room like one might an unwanted pest.

"Jesus." He breathed. She was laying in the glass now with nothing to protect her; no vest or gun. Bruce was squeezing the edge of his desk, his knuckles white from the strain.

The looming predator delicately lifted her out of the glass. Her legs dangled over the edge of his large palm. When he asked if she had any last words, Bruce slammed a fist down on the desk. Tony protectively snatched his tech away.

"I can't Tony. I can't watch this."

"Aw, you missed the best part! She delivers a pretty solid one-liner." He whined, as he hugged his glass tablet to his chest.

"I can't- Why? Why did she do that?" Bruce was standing now and pacing like an animal.

"It might have had something to do with the ridiculously huge chunk of cement you were about to be crushed by." Tony stated sarcastically, arms crossed.

"It was pointless. I can't be killed."

"Does she know that for sure? Do _you_?"

"Yes!" Bruce exasperatedly said, turning on Tony. He put his hands on his hips and his eyes flicked away before meeting Tony's again. "No. Maybe? Look, it doesn't matter! You shouldn't have shown me that."

"Why not?"

"I don't think she wanted any of us to know about it. She left it out of her report and, believe me, it wasn't accidental." He picked up the notebook and waved it around briefly before slapping it back down on his desk. "This thing was so comprehensive it verged on redundancy."

"Alright, I didn't know. But I kind of can't undo it. I'm sorry." Tony said, sounding actually genuine. He set the glass down and held his hands up as an act of contrition. Bruce squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, an act so familiar to him, that he probably did it in his sleep.

"You know now, though. Do with that knowledge what you will." Tony aristocratically enunciated every word.

Bruce _wanted_ to promise himself that he would say nothing about it to her. If she didn't mention anything about it, why should he? There was a niggling curiosity at the back of his mind, though and he found it hard to squash.

"By the way, I have something for you." Tony said. He was striding to a corner of the room where he rifled through a pile of different abandoned contraptions. When, at last, he found what he was looking for, he returned.

"Try not to lose this one, 'kay Banner?" He tossed the item over to Bruce, who caught it. "It's the only spare." It was a halo cuff. This one didn't have his name embossed in the side of it.

"It's alright, as presents go." Bruce snarked as he clasped the snug bracelet onto his wrist. "I was sort of hoping for a pony."

"Maybe next year," Tony said, turning to his projections. He thrust one finger up in the air and declared: "And only if you're good!"

* * *

Amira woke with a yelp and a violent jolt. She was breathing hard and as soon as she realized herself, she brought her hands to her eyes to wipe away the tears. Only, there were none there. She had merely dreamed that she was crying. Her body was sore from sleeping on the unforgiving tile and she felt her bruises and cuts complain. With a sigh, she crawled - sloth-like - onto her small sofa. There, she curled up in her blanket like a caterpillar in a downy chrysalis.

She felt a faintly familiar, persistent feeling on the delicate skin of her inner wrist. A steady pulse thumped away within her cuff once more. It was Bruce's beating heart come to pull her from the depths of her night terrors.

"Thanks." She whispered and she buried her face in the blankets for a second time. Sleep claimed her shortly thereafter.

* * *

 **Long one, whew. Exposition is HARD. I tweaked Emil Blonksy's backstory somewhat, I hope no one minds.**

 **D'you ever wake up from a nightmare you were crying in and find that you aren't _really_ crying at all? I always feel betrayed, like, what the heck, brain? I was so sad just now and you couldn't even be bothered to make real tears? DOES MY DREAM SUFFERING MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?**

 **"Shiva (Hebrew: שבעה , literally "seven") is the week-long mourning period in Judaism for first-degree relatives: father, mother, son, daughter, brother, sister, and spouse. The ritual is referred to as "sitting shiva." This state lasts for seven days." - From Wikipedia**

 **I know it says that it lasts seven days but many modern Jews do not sit for a full seven days. Since shiva calls for abstaining from work, many choose to only sit for two or three days. It all depends on the family's wishes, as the ritual appears to be more for the mourners than the deceased.**


	13. Chapter 13

**New story image! Here's another installment, right on time. I also have some more things I've drawn for reference and such. I compiled it all in an imgur link that will be posted on my AO3 version of this story. So go there if you want to see some draws.**

 **I really recommend you guys listen to Walden Pond by Atta Boy. It's on Vimeo and Spotify. It's nostalgic and just a really good song!**

 **Dark World spoilers ahead.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of Marvel's**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen - My Sleep That You Stole

Amira woke the next day on her couch, her eyes opening and closing slowly as the recollection of her brother's death crashed down upon her. She thanked her lucky stars that she couldn't remember her dreams. A growl emitted from deep within her chest at the unkindness the glaring sunlight did to her eyes. She sat up, her hair snagged and snarled from being grated against her pillow all night. Her feet, still sheathed stockings, touched down on the cool tile floor. She hunched over and soberly looked down at her toes. Her hair fell in a shroud around her head. The couch was so comfortable and her room so well furnished and fine yet, she would give every luxury to wake up again and see her brother. She was excited about her room only days ago but now it felt alien and uncomfortable to wake up there.

With a sniff she rose and removed her dress. The mass of fabric thumped mutely onto the floor around her feet. Simple, unapologetic nakedness was something she never got to partake of in the past. However, her enjoyment of standing in the middle of a room in only her underwear was a hollow feeling. She glanced down at her piteously small breasts, her scared legs, her bruised stomach. In that moment, she was relieved that shiva called for the covering of mirrors. She was thoroughly ashamed of how she looked. Instead of ruminating on it any longer, she sought to force herself into taking a shower.

She escaped into the bathroom, dragging her feet behind her.

She took a very short, utilitarian shower. The water was cold, as was required by the tradition of shiva, and she didn't waste a minute dawdling. Her wounds stung in the cool water and she took care to avoid them while washing. She left the bathroom, wrapped in pristine white towels, to retrieve the materials for a bandage change in her bag.

She thought of Bruce as she clumsily changed her bandages. Her bracelet worked steadfastly against her inner wrist, like a soothing sensory mantra. The man was entirely enigmatic to her. She could almost never tell what he was thinking, or the intent of his words. She wasn't even sure if they were friends. It made her feel guilty since she had relied on him for so many things.

"Amira, why?" She groaned to herself. She was struck, viscerally, by the embarrassment of remembering how she had cried like a mewling fawn on his shoulder. He held her so rigidly. She had also let her lips hover too long near his cheek. She wrote it off as an act of emotional imbalance but it would have been easier to bear if he didn't look so uncomfortable afterward.

" _God, but he was so warm._ " The thought wormed it's way through her attempted mental wall. She had to physically shake her head to scare off the shame. She didn't have time to deal with a stupid, un-reciprocated crush.

She finished up with her bandages and changed into the only clean clothing she had that was suitable for sitting shiva: a black cotton t-shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts. It would have been prudent for her to choose something more formal if she were expecting visitors but, since she wasn't, she went with comfort. Besides, she didn't own anything else. After working her hair into a state she assumed was fit to be seen, she tossed her reliable little pillow onto the floor and sat down, cross legged, with the intent of remembering Aaron.

An enthusiastic knock came at the door.

"Uh, who is it?" She called out.

"It's Tony!" Came the muffled reply.

"Oh." She said. "Hi, Tony."

"Is this a bad time?"

"Yes." She grumbled under her breath. She closed her eyes and put on a smile. She had heard if you talk with a smile that it reflects in your voice. "N-no, what's up?"

"You know, this is great. I love shouting at people through doors. We should do this more often."

"I'll be right there." She said, still forcing her smile. She walked to the door and swung it open.

"Good God, it is depressing in here." He said, his eyes scanning her dimly lit apartment. She had made sure to close all of the curtains after waking up. She didn't have a positive response, so she said nothing and returned to her sitting pillow. Tony hummed, an impressed sound.

"Oh, this is interesting." He sat down across from her. He put his hands together as best as he could with his arm in a sling. "Namaste." He bowed.

"Wrong religion." Amira said. Tony chuckled. There was a silence, a rare occurrence when Tony Stark was in the room. Amira rushed to fill it.

"Any word about Emil?" It disgusted her to sculpt her mouth around that monster's name.

"Bruce and I were up all last night looking." Her hopes were up in an instance. "Nothing has turned up so far." Her heart sank. Firstly, because they were no closer to bringing Emil to justice and secondly, because while they were up all night looking, she was hiding in her room like a coward. He looked as downtrodden as she felt so she changed the subject.

"How's your arm?" Tony looked down at his sling.

"It's coming along. I play basketball with an orthopedic surgeon so I had him check it out. He's actually Jewish too."

"Say no more." Amira pointed to the ring finger on her upheld hand and her eyebrows waggled. "Is he single?"

"He's sixty-seven; has a decent lay-up."

"Just my luck. All the good Jewish boys are either married or geriatric." She snapped her fingers and feigned disappointment.

"The point is, I asked him what kind of flowers to send you and he said that flowers were no good. I asked him his recommendation so," He pulled a crisp envelope out of the pocket of his jacket, "this is for you." He passed it to her. She looked down at the envelope and then back at Tony.

"I can't accept this."

"You don't even know what it is yet." He said, insistently.

"Well, what is it?" She asked, examining the object in her hand.

"It's tickets to Six Flags!" He said mockingly. "Just open it." Amira pressed her lips together in a firm line and admitted defeat. She carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a small folded certificate. It was a paper certifying that trees had been planted in Israel in memory of Aaron. Her heart welled up with sentiment. Her eyes scanned down the page and she scoffed in disbelief at what she read.

"Tony. This says you had _seven-hundred_ trees planted." She said. Tony looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Trees die, okay? It's a numbers game."

"Tony that's too many trees." She laughed in disbelief.

"Well, y'know, he was a good pilot and well worth seven-hundred trees- More than seven-hundred! I probably couldn't quantify it in trees, is the point." As Tony became tangential she realized that he might be unaccustomed to broaching the subject of loss.

"Thank you, Tony. This is very thoughtful." She held the folded paper to her heart.

"I just want to do what I can for the Holy Land." He reverently bowed his head. Amira laughed at him. It was a true laugh, free of sounding forced.

"Chin up." Was the last thing he said. After that, he smiled and stood. She was selfishly glad when he was gone but she didn't regret that he had come in the first place. Despite being only a slip of paper in her hand, the certificate held a greater weight in it's meaning. She set it down on the glass coffee table and took her seat on the floor. She tried to pray but it felt awkward and contrived so she settled for sitting in silence.

* * *

At noon, Clint came by to pay her a visit. She let him in, with no reservations. He was one of her good friends and he knew Aaron better than any of the other Avenger's.

"Did you and Natasha have any luck? I heard you had a contact who might know something." Amira hopefully asked.

"Yeah, we had a guy in Kharkov."

"The arm's dealer?" She asked. Clint affirmed with a nod.

"Vadim Koval. Apparently, he was a close comrade of Emil's before he turned into the Abomination." Clint explained.

"But you're not in the Ukraine. You're here." She said. She pinned him with a questioning gaze. Clint sighed and set his mouth into a frown.

"We got a last minute tip that he was killed." Amira cursed. "Presumably unrelated. A casualty in a faction war."

"Tony hasn't got anything either." She grunted.

"I know. Fury is on the case. We'll get him soon enough, kid." Clint said. He had never failed in cheering her up. Especially back when she was a recruit, as awkward on her feet as a colt and a completely incompetent marksman.

"You doin' okay?" He asked, sitting on the floor across from her.

"Yeah. I'm just trying to keep the good things in mind. The good memories." She said. Clint nodded.

"You two were closer than any siblings I'd ever known."

"We had to be close," she picked at a stray thread on the hem of her shirt; her voice was small, "the way things were with Dad." There was a comfortable silence between them. Clint dug into his pocket.

"I recovered these for you." Clint opened his palm. Within, was Aaron's kippah, folded and neat. She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Tears pooled in her eyes. She had completely forgotten about these things- his treasures. He gave her a little gesture, urging her to take it. She took it from him and cupped it in her hands. She unfolded it and his Star of David necklace glimmered from within the material. She draped the delicate chain over her fingers and brushed her thumb over the star.

"And Maria sent this." Clint procured Aaron's small, warn copy of the tanakh. She took it from him and sobbed once before giving him a desperate look.

"Clint, I- I-" She struggled to speak, not wishing to humiliate herself by wailing fully in front of her friend. Clint looked down and sighed once more.

"I know, kid. I know." He gave her knee a single pat and then stood. He knew that she was grateful. Amira had known him long enough to infer as much.

At the sound of the door closing, she pressed the material of his kippah to her forehead and let loose her weeping. These were his most prized possessions. Three completely mundane things were all she had left of him. She reminded herself to fervently thank Clint when she saw him next as she thumbed through Aaron's tanakh. Reverently, she read every passage that he highlighted and noted, cherishing them as things that he found important and relevant to him.

He tried so hard to be a better person where Amira scraped by in life, just trying to keep her head above water.

She wore his necklace now; a secret symbol marking her as a mourner.

* * *

The clock struck eight and Amira had successfully spent the entire day doing nothing but sitting on the floor. The reality of this suited her just fine. She was well adjusted for sitting for long periods of time with nothing to entertain her thanks to her intel gathering missions in Africa. It was a lovely sort of dark and quiet in her room, she wondered idly if she could coax her body into hibernation. Perhaps she could sleep for years and years until she had completely forgotten what it meant to miss her brother. She could wake up and not feel quite so empty as she did today.

This was the very thing that frightened her, the emptiness. Of course, whenever someone loses a close friend or relative they are always told that 'time heals all wounds'. But Amira was beginning to suspect that something may be permanently broken within her. Everything she thought of that brought her joy would somehow remind her of Aaron. She wondered if it was a poor choice to sit shiva, if being alone was hurting her. It was possible, but she far preferred being alone than having to be around anyone else at this time. Besides, Aaron would have wanted her to sit.

She rose from the floor and strode over to the window. Peeking from behind the slits of her curtains was the light pollution of the city below. She dared a glance up at the sky and she was disappointed to see clouds hanging high above her. It was for the better. If she were able to stargaze she might find that, that too, was no longer something she could enjoy.

And who should knock on her door at that precise moment but the prince of Asgard, himself. She was surprised to see him. It never occurred to her that anyone would visit her this late, let alone the Avenger she barely knew.

"Good evening, Amira." He said, his voice subdued and accompanied by a small bow of the head. He had dropped the 'Lady' honorific, much to her relief.

"Good evening to you." She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She tried to maintain as little eye contact as possible. He was intimidating in his size and heritage and she didn't know him very well.

"Are you well?" She marveled at how large he was. The room seemed like a scaled down set compared to him.

"Yes, thank you."

"I've just come from Asgard."

"You're back? Already?" Amira would admit to knowing very little about how Thor came and went between worlds, but it did seem rather soon for him to have traversed across space and back

"I bore urgent news. It was necessary that I return immediately." Thor's pale blue eyes held hers and he was holding something- a parcel wrapped in leather.

"Clint told me you have a friend that might be able to see Emil." She pressed optimistically. The magic of Asgard was incredible. Perhaps at another time she would have liked to grill Thor about it.

"Heimdall, yes." The large blonde man sidled in place and looked around uncertainly.

"So what did he see?"

"He saw nothing. Not after the attack in New Mexico." He delivered the news in such a way that he might have known how disappointed she would be.

"I see." Who could find Emil if not the Asgardian who could hear birds chirping in another world? She frowned and laced her fingers together, letting them hang down uselessly.

"Even when he summoned me and told me that you were all in danger in New Mexico, he was somehow barred from seeing the monster clearly. It was instinct alone that urged him to alert me." Thor said, stepping closer. "Worry not, Amira. We will find the creature that took your brother's life."

Amira didn't have any clever words. She was feeling withdrawn and didn't have the strength to think very hard about maintaining politeness. After a heavy moment of eye contact avoidance from her, Thor spoke up.

"Clint explained to me the many traditions you celebrate. I can't imagine how you remember all of the customs in your religion. There are so many of them."

"I don't even remember all of them, to be honest. Aaron was far more devout than me. In these matters, I would usually defer to him." They were standing far apart from one another. The light of the moon and the city cast contrasting colors on them both.

"I feel as though I can relate. My brother was the more studious of the both of us." She didn't miss the tense he used to describe his brother. "As for Asgardian tradition, it is usually fairly simple." It took Thor only three long-legged steps to reach her coffee table. He set his parcel down upon it.

"We drink."

"I can get on board with that kind of tradition." Thor gave her a sporting laugh and untied the string that held the parcel together.

"Then please accept this as a token of my sorrow for your loss." The leather wrappings unfurled and there sat a small wooden cask. It was a dark walnut container with ornately carved steel hoops holding it tight around the circumference.

"We call this _sjaund_." He said, dusting off the top. "It is a mourning mead. We drink it only when we have lost someone close to us." He was clearly prideful of the tradition but something about his tone of voice suggested a sort of sadness.

"This is incredibly generous, I couldn't possibly accept it." It was not really customary to receive gifts during shiva. Obviously, Thor wouldn't know that but she still felt strange accepting such a beautiful thing.

"I know what it means to lose someone close to you." He said, resting a hand on the cask and staring at it, entranced. "My own brother – Loki, he was called – died fighting for me and the woman I love. My mother gave her life, as well." She knew that name. Loki was the one who orchestrated the attack on New York. She hadn't heard that he had died.

"I'm sorry." She squeaked. She admired how well he kept it together. He seemed so determined to be pleased in her few interactions with him. She never would have guessed what hardship he had seen.

"He was misguided but I loved him. There is not a day goes by that I do not miss him." Amira closed the gap between them. "My goal is to make their sacrifices mean something." He spoke with a dark purpose that warned of vengeance. She placed a small hand on his forearm. He turned, the spell of dwelling on angry thoughts broken.

"Thank you." She said.

"It is but a trifle. Drink it and you will find it imbued with a sweet magic that brings back memories with clarity, a quality that makes it perfect for honoring the dead." He was smiling again. She was glad of it.

"I suggest sipping it. This cask is a warm up for an Asgardian but for a Midgardian..." He cocked his head and sized her up, "and such a small one, at that – it could prove dangerous."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I shall take my leave. There are other matters that call my attention." He said cordially, gracing her with another small bow of the head.

"Thank you, again, Thor. This is a very lovely thing you've done. Very thoughtful." She said. If Thor had a tail, it may be wagging at this very moment. He hosted a restrained smile and he bobbed his head in an affirming nod.

"Farewell, Amira." And at that he turned and left the room, his fine crimson cloak billowing behind him.

The door clicked shut and Amira released a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. He was so kind to her. Perhaps because, unexpectedly, he understood what she was going through better than anyone else. At first, she thought of him only as the very capable warrior that he had proved to be. She could see now that he hurt as keenly as she did and was ten times more thoughtful and courageous in the face of such devastating loss.

And then something came upon her so suddenly that the force of it almost bowled her over.

She couldn't stand the interior of her room. The dark of it reminded her of the contorting, reeking tunnels beneath Desert Base. Horrendous thoughts of the Abomination infiltrated her mind, try as she might to will them away. Panic crashed over her; her inhalations came shallow and desperate. Amira was a canary in a coal mine, neither singing nor breathing. She clutched her chest and rushed into her closet where she would find a pair of sweats. After pulling them on she dashed for the door.

The hallway was well-lit with high-end fixtures that emitted an aureate glow. She fell back against the wall and hunched over, heaving in and out. He breathing echoed down the hallway where she was alone. It still wasn't good enough- she was sweating and nothing she drew in satisfied her lungs. Her knees threatened to buckle. It was as if she was trapped behind that overturned desk again. Blood pounded in her hears in time with the footsteps of the Abomination approaching her, ready to crush her like he promised.

She ran, staggering down the hallway towards the elevator in search of fresh air.

* * *

Bruce shut his eyes tight, trying to relieve them of the burning. He had been sitting, gazing into his computer screen for far too long. Still, there wasn't a single mystery about Emil that they had solved. They had achieved nothing in the twenty-four hours they had been working. Morale was low. One after another Clint, Natasha, and Thor slunk back without a single answer to show for their toils. Bruce and Tony hadn't had any luck either. Bruce stretched in his chair, unfurling his limbs and relishing the popping in his shoulders.

"I think I'm going to step out for a little bit." He said, rising to stand.

"Sounds good, pal." Tony was maniacally manipulating a levitating, three-dimensional image, his gaze completely transfixed. Were it not for the fact that Bruce had spoken up, he might have not even realized that the quiet scientist was still in the room.

"What are you working on?" Bruce asked.

"Just tinkering with a potential new toy while I wait."

"Ah." Bruce knew he wouldn't get anything more out of Tony. When he became obsessed like that he didn't offer very much in the way of conversation.

"Oh, Bruce, before you go, remember that charity gala that I was going to hold here?" Bruce gave him a withering stare.

"The one two days from now? The one we all asked you to cancel?" He said, knowing full well that was the exact gala he was talking about.

"Yeah, I'm not canceling it."

"Tony-"

"I have to keep up appearances! If Tony Stark cancels a party people are going to know something is up. Twitter would probably break." Tony sounded like a teenage girl and Bruce, his beleaguered father. So Bruce decided to go with the Avengers equivalent of 'ask your mother'.

"Run it by Steve. I doubt he'll be happy to hear about your decision."

"My tower, my rules."

"Goodbye!" Bruce said insistently, headed toward the door, his back to Tony.

He took his leave, his limbs begging for a reprieve from stagnancy. He could hear Tony conversing with his AI companion as he left.

"JARVIS, let's talk logistics for this puppy. Lay it on me."

"Well, sir, the design itself is simple enough, it is the materials, however, where you will have difficulty..."

The door shut, silencing the exchange. Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets and leisurely strolled towards the elevators. There were very few employees in the tower at this time of night, even fewer on the floor that Bruce and Tony used. The silence was disturbed by his footfalls as he walked down the hall.

The image of Amira being swatted across the room from the security camera feed wouldn't stop looping in his head. He remembered why he had buried himself so thoroughly into his work. It was so he could forget things like that.

He took the speedy elevator all the way up to it's highest point. There, he switched over into the service elevator that took him to his roost. The service elevator was stripped of all luxury. It had a dirty plastic floor from workmen and custodians using it to haul their tools and creaked it's way up and down in a most disconcerting way.

The door slid open, squeaking across the poorly aligned track, and Bruce stepped out. He passed through the door simply labeled 'Roof'. His steps crunched along the gravel and tar roof and the calm winds unsettled his shirt collar. When he rounded upon the large transformer he was surprised by a shrill yelp. He almost fell back, himself, at the exclamation but when he regained his composure he couldn't see the culprit.

"Who's there?" He called out, adrenaline flooded into his system.

"Sorry." Amira flickered into view, her cloak fading. She was sitting on the ground with her legs criss-crossed, a hand resting on her chest. "You scared me." He sighed.

"Oh, it's just you." He had to consciously think about relieving his muscles of their rigidity. His heart still thumped. He suspected she could feel it. "I'll leave you be." He said, disappointed that he would have to settle for relaxing in the lounge.

"Don't go." She said. She was cradling herself and staring straight at him. He didn't move. "I could use some company."

Company was really the last thing he wanted but there was something lonesome in her voice that disarmed his ability to refuse. He gave in with a shrug and walked over to the faded lawn chair. The rusting old thing scraped along the rocks as he dragged it up next to her. He lowered himself carefully into the seat and then set into cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

He glanced over to see that she had changed her bandages. It pleased him to see that she didn't neglect to do so. He saw her in profile, the column of her neck outstretched and delicate. She rested her chin on her closed fist. She wouldn't look skyward. There was nothing up there to observe but gloomy clouds. After a long silence, she spoke.

"Thanks for hanging out with me."

"No problem."

"I just couldn't be in that room anymore."

"Isn't leaving the house technically not allowed during shiva?" He asked. She gave a small snort.

"Not _technically_ but if your house is _technically_ a massive high-rise there's a bit of a gray area." She looked downward and her hair tumbled around her head. "Normally, you sit shiva with your family. I'm sort of going it alone this time."

Now he started to feel uncomfortably hot. This conversation was steering into a territory that was completely out of his emotional jurisdiction. He attempted to rapidly change the subject.

"Did you, uh-" It was a risky thing to ask and he was already regretting it, but he couldn't un-say what he had already said. "Did you leave anyone special behind in Africa?" Amira started a little at the question. But after a moment, she did smile, though it looked to be out of embarrassment more than anything else.

' _People talk about this kind of thing, right? This is normal, Bruce. You are being so normal right now._ '

"No." She laughed, as if the notion were ridiculous. She cleared her throat and then forced a serious demeanor. "No, it was impossible. _Fraternization_ , I mean. Nothing like that was allowed under Fury's regime. Not that there were any interested parties in the first place."

"Oh." He said.

"Disappointed?"

"Surprised." He spoke truly.

"What about you, Banner?" She nudged him with an elbow. "Do you have _someone special_." She said, gently teasing him with his choice of words. He was now very dissatisfied with his topic adjustment. This was much worse.

"No, wait." She said, giving him a foxy smile. "I know."

"Do you?" He chuckled.

"Sometimes, I see it in your eyes. My father had the same look." She was looking right at him now, her irises black in the low light, her smile bitter-sweet. "It's heartbreak." With those final words she brought her knees to her chest and nestled her chin in between them.

Bruce swallowed hard and repeated her words: "Heartbreak." He wasn't surprised that she had guessed it. Knowing the caliber of baggage that he was hauling, what else could it have been but heartbreak?

"I'm sorry." She said. "I shouldn't have said that. I wasn't thinking."

"It's fine. You're fine." He said, finally. It was difficult to process the fact that he was about to have this conversation with someone. "Betty." He surrendered. "Her name was Betty."

"Pretty name."

"I think so too." There was a pause. Amira cautiously turned towards him, her mouth twisted into a grimace of contemplation.

"What happened." She said, her voice barely reaching him over the breeze.

"She died."

"I'm sorry."

' _Me too._ ' "Don't be."

"You were married?" She asked. Her tan skin was painted a dull yellow from the lights below.

"Yes." He wouldn't show it outwardly, but his heart felt as though it were being squeezed in a merciless vice. He hadn't even talked to Tony about Betty. He assumed that the nosy genius had found out about it on his own, however, they had never spoken of it. Perhaps in another instant, he would have asked to talk about something else, but there was a special sort of catharsis he was granted in talking about her.

"What was she like?" The squeezing is intensified.

"She was smart- much smarter than me." He distractedly smoothed down the front of his shirt as he reached back into most hidden away parts of his psyche and dredged up those painful memories. "Patient. Attentive." His voice was low now, and gruff. "So beautiful."

"Of course she was." Amira said. Her voice wasn't bitter in the least but she did have a ghost of that devastated smile she wore yesterday in their hallway. She looked up at him again, invigorated by yet another question.

"What's it like to be in love?" She glanced up at him. Had she never even been in love?

"It's- It's, um..." Something distracted him, suddenly. He furrowed his brow as he studied her. There was an anomaly in her eyes that he couldn't pinpoint. Was it something in their roundness? His gaze traced down the shelf of her cheeks until it came to rest on her lips. There, he found another confounding anomaly. It rested in the soft curve of her cupid's bow. He was beginning to feel the urge to touch her, when he realized that he had been staring for an almost vulgar amount of time. He looked away, pretending to survey the skyline, and cleared his throat.

"Well, love is just a series of chemical reactions." He said, leaning forward, determined not to lose track of himself again. "For you, a _female_ , it's an influx of oxytocin. For a male it's vasopressin. They create different reactions in either sex but the purpose is to encourage pair-bonding, which of course, aids in the continuation of the species." He hazarded a glance at her. She was giving him a mocking smirk, one of her eyebrows raised.

"Try not to romanticize is too much, Shakespeare, I'm practically swooning over here."

"Sorry." He chuckled.

The two of them conversed easily with one another now. Broaching the subject of Betty made him feel less guarded around her. She knew his two most sensitive secrets. The Hulk and Betty. There was nothing more he had to keep from her.

Well, _almost_ nothing more.

She seemed a little more animated than the day before. He was perfectly happy to help her forget about her loss for a couple of hours. The conversation lulled for a moment and he realized just how long they had been talking. Tony must be wondering where he went off to. And then Bruce was reminded.

"Oh, I almost forgot," He began. She perked up, "Tony is holding a gala here. It's been scheduled for months now."

"A gala?" She snorted at the absurdity. "Mr. Banner, I do declare!" She put a condescending hand to her chest and did her best impression of a debutante.

"It's in two days."

"Two days?! Is that a good idea? I mean, with everything that's happened."

"We tried to get him to cancel it but Pepper has been planning it for months." Bruce said. "Besides, there would be a lot of questions if he canceled it." Tony had made a good point down in the lab. Stark's never cancel a party. Tony might even have that adage sewn into a decorative pillow.

"Still, a gala." She looked, starry-eyed, out onto the city. "I've never been dancing before."

"It's usually a pretty good time. The Dutch Prime Minister was unapologetically drunk at the last one."

"Aw, I wanna meet a drunk Prime Minister!" She cried, excitedly.

"Will you be sitting the full seven days?" He asked. He was peculiarly invested in her getting to go. She had never seen a drunk Prime Minister, it really was a shame that she should have to miss out.

"God, no. My ass is already killing me from sitting on the floor all day." She scoffed. "I was going to finish tomorrow. I figured it was best if I got back to work as soon as possible."

"Then I'll see you there. Unless Steve cancels the entire thing.""Boo. He had better not." Amira gave him a weary look and wrinkled her nose. An action that Bruce could not deny finding absolutely adorable. He grit his teeth at the revelation. "Perhaps it would be for the best. Emil is, no doubt, planning his next attack." She snorted. "And I'd look horrific in an evening gown all bruised up."

He was a shy, reserved man normally, but something was getting to him. Currently, it was the way her mouth curled at the edges into a pretty smile. He looked away from her and nodded hesitantly as she went on asking more and more questions. His present state certainly did not bode well for him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't have a _crush_.

He made a note:

He had to snuff this out while it was still in it's fledgling stage. After all, it could only ever led to more of what Bruce Banner had in spades: heartbreak.

* * *

 **Well, it wouldn't be a bad fanfic without an excuse for everyone to don evening wear, would it? A gala! Hurray! Did you get a case of the cutes from this chapter? I got some cutes writing it. Tbh, trying to describe the process of developing feelings for someone is hard enough as it is but I also have to keep Bruce in character and he's just such a tough nut to crack.**

 **Sjaund is not traditionally a mead. It's an ale. There actually wasn't very much information about this on the internet but I loved the idea of drinking a special mourning beer. It's a Norse tradition.**

 **I also claim to know barely anything about the chemicals that fuel companionship. I just scanned an article from PBS. It's PBS, though. It's gotta be accurate.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I was gone for so long! I had some personal things to take care of, some self-care to see after. I'm back now and I still love this story and you few who follow it! Tried to get it out ASAP so please enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of Marvel's**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen - The Night Folds Her Wings

Amira didn't sleep. She wasn't even sure if she ever closed her eyes. The calmest comfort she found was staring blankly into the unwavering glow of her lamp – a glow which she prayed would scare away the tremors that came and went.

She wasn't stupid; she knew what this was that made her rigid with fear but she was more afraid of telling someone than she was of the nightmares. This wasn't the time to derail the search for Emil with her problems. Stronger soldiers than her had seen worse and fared better. This fear was weakness and the team couldn't withstand a chink in the armor now. It would be another chore on the growing list.

The warm cordiality she had shared with Bruce felt too brief now. She wished she could bring back the contented feeling that came with easy conversation.

In an instant she went from relieved to almost manic, sweating and staring into the light, fighting against the dark intruding thoughts.

It wasn't until the sun crept into view that she was able to stand and breath fully. In the light, she could escape from the killing floor in New Mexico. It made her feel better to see the people below go about their lives. It gave her comfort to not feel so singular. Shiva was slowly becoming a punishment. She would be glad to finish with it in the evening.

She came away from the window of her apartment after a long consideration of what she saw. When she was satisfied, she took her seat on the floor again. Shiva might have become a trial for her, but she still wasn't ready to face the Avengers.

She would not close the blinds today. She would not turn off the lights.

* * *

Amira nervously worked her hands through her wet curls. They tended to stay damp for longer than was convenient after she had showered. Steve Rogers stood awkwardly in her doorway one hand holding his wrist. She touched her hair because she barely knew what to say. She had a hard time stifling her admiration for the captain. She blushed and so did he, both out of sheer social ineptitude.

"I spoke with Clint. Said someone should drop in on you. Said you shouldn't be alone for so long." Steve finally said after a moment. Amira looked at her feet and then at him.

"I'm glad Clint is making sure everyone knows I'm a wreck."

"Now, he didn't mean that. Just worried about you, that's all."

"I know," She chuckled, "I _think_. He's always looked after me somewhat." Cap scratched the back of his neck.

"Please, come in." She said, coming to her senses. "Sit." He closed to door behind him.

"I'll stand." She opened her hands, palms up ' _makes no difference to me_ ' and sat herself down on the floor. Steve looked all around the disheveled room, with the sheet-covered mirrors, concern touching his brow.

"I gotta say, it seems lonely." He said from above her where he stood. She laughed at his frank statement.

"Well, you're not wrong."

"Sorry, I didn't think-" He stuttered. She waved her hand and smiled.

"Please, it's fine." She insisted. "It _is_ lonely. Normally, you do it with family." She studied her cuticles so she didn't have to look him in the eye.

"I see."

"Though," Amira drew her knees up to her chest, "sometimes it seems like I'm lonely even if I'm in a room full of people I know." She looked up to see him staring straight at her, jaw set. He blinked once.

"Loneliness is tricky that way." He said. "It can find you anywhere."

"Suppose I should get better at hiding." They were both quiet for a long time. Amira was beginning to suspect she had bared too much.

"I have found it helps to make friends."

"Suppose I should get better at that, as well." She repeated. He gave her a crooked smile and nodded.

"I don't figure you'd have to look too far."

"Speaking of looking." Steve didn't break eye contact. Something in his silence told her all she needed to know. She wasn't surprised. "Nothing, then."

"This is a matter of national security. It isn't just a problem for the Avengers to solve. The best intelligence analysts our government has to offer are working around the clock." His presence was strong and assuring. He was obviously practiced in giving pep talks to members of his disheartened crew.

"I shouldn't keep you here, in that case." Amira said, trying her best to sound optimistic. "Between finding Emil and the gala, it's going to be impossible for you to have any moment to yourself." He nodded in agreement but stopped short and cocked his head.

"Gala?"

"Um." She toyed with the hem of her shirt "Tony's...charity...gala?" She squeaked, growing quieter with every word. Amira suspected that she had completely sold Tony out. Some secret agent she was. Steve groaned and rubbed his chin.

"I have to go." He said, beleaguered. Amira was embarrassed but she wasn't very far from giggling at the little havoc she had caused.

"I understand." She stood and shook his hand. "Thank you for visiting." His grip was firm and warm. He turned her hand in his and patted the back of it.

"When you're ready, we'll be happy to have you back." She blushed, suddenly ashamed. It would be easier to hide then to ever go back. Perhaps Steve could see that in her – the quivering cowardice.

"Thank you." She mumbled, and her hand was freed from his grasp.

* * *

Bruce stood, deep in concentration, brows joined, his fingers worrying his bottom lip. He stared at her door like it was beating him at chess. He'd been standing there for a full minute trying to decide whether or not he should knock. In the cool, hushed hallway, he totaled the pros and cons.

 _'_ _ **Pro**_ _: It wouldn't be out of place to drop in. She has been visited by the others. Overheard Clint and Natasha discussing it._

 _ **Con**_ _: The potential to creep her out by appearing again. We just spent a sizable sum of time alone on the roof._

 _ **Pro**_ _: It was actually really_ _ **nice**_ _. Nice is normal. Maybe it was nice for her? (Requires more thorough research)_

 _ **Con**_ _: EVERYTHING YOU MORON. PLEASE REMOVE YOUR HEAD FROM YOUR ASS._

 _…_

 _ **Pro**_ _: It's also nice when she laughs. And she smells good._

 _ **Con**_ _: ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?_

 _ **Pro**_ _: It's important that we become familiar. She is, after all, supposed to look after me- The Hulk, that is.'_

He paused the tormenting of his lip to brush his fingers along the matte surface of his cuff, feeling the soft and steady feedback of her pulse on his wrist.

 _' **Con** : It is a very bad idea, Bruce. You know that._

 _ **Pro** : I'm entitled to a little humanity._

 _ **Con** : Betty.'_

"Betty." He whispered. His heart dropped.

He decided to leave before his internal deliberation began again. Unfortunately, before he could turn to leave her door swung open. He froze. Any rapid movement would be interpreted as shady, no doubt.

"Dr. Banner!" Steve said, surprised to see the dark haired man standing before him. Bruce plastered a stilted, almost manic looking smile on his face.

"Cap." He greeted, perhaps too excitedly. His eyes flicked to the interior of Amira's apartment. He could see her looking quizzically at him from where she sat. He looked back at Steve and then back at Amira.

"I-I was just headed back to the lab." He jammed his pointed thumb over his shoulder. Steve's confusion melted into a more civil veneer.

"I'm glad you're here. There is something I need to discuss with Tony, you should be there." The captain fell comfortably back into active duty mode. Bruce didn't hear the rest of what he said - not really. He looked over Steve's shoulder and Amira was no longer there.

* * *

"It's reckless. Completely inadvisable." Steve bellowed across the table from Tony. "I know you're really proud of the devil-may-care attitude you've cultivated for yourself, but I didn't think you could be this stupid."

"Don't get too worked up, Cap." Tony casually rebutted. "We wouldn't want you to throw your back out before the party."

"There will be no party." Steve braced himself on the table, his strong arms outstretched and coiled with frustration, held back. "Fury will never-"

"Fury already gave me the okay." Both Bruce and Steve dropped their jaws.

"You're not serious." Bruce said, from where he leant against a desk.

"He isn't."

"Cross my magnetic field generator," Tony knocked on the fixture in his chest, "and hope to die." Steve's lip curled.

"Cute." Bruce said, rolling his eyes. "You realize that you're painting a huge target on our backs. What'll it be? One hundred and fifty? Two hundred of the most affluent people in the nation in the same room?"

"That's the point." Steve said, shaking the table with a pound of his fist. Bruce, refusing to believe such an accusation, looked to his friend. Stark have him a penetrating gaze. Bruce swallowed hard.

"You're going to get people hurt, Tony."

"You haven't seen my guest list." Stark handed Steve a detailed dossier in the form of a tablet. Steve grabbed it, suspicious of it's contents. "It's time to cut this wild goose chase bullshit and start being pragmatic. Every day we let that gilled psychopath walk around free, we are losing." Tony threw his arms out. "We have to make a play."

"What is this?" Steve asked, a hundred faces, names, and details flashing on the screen.

"My guest list." Tony said, as if he had called checkmate. "Hand-picked by Fury himself."

"A trap." Steve murmured.

"Not a very elegant one. Surely, Emil and whoever is puppeteering him will be wise to what you're trying to pull."

"It's better than nothing, which is what we have in heaps right now." Neither Steve or Bruce could refute him.

"And, hey, if nothing happens we all had a great time and saved the rain-forest. Win win."

"So," Steve set the tablet down and looked around incredulously, "why isn't the rest of the team here to go over the plan?"

"Two words, Mr. President." Tony said, clapping a hand down on Steve's shoulder. "Plausible deniability."

Steve slightly recoiled, looking perturbed. He looked to Bruce, who merely shook his head and told him not to worry about it.

* * *

Bruce waited to catch Tony before he left for his suite. He grabbed him by his arm and pulled him aside.

"Can I get a word." Bruce looked side to side, to make sure no one would hear. It had the effect of making him look rather paranoid, as Steve had left twenty minutes ago.

"What's up?" Tony said.

"Just for the record, I'm still not sold on this plan of yours."

"And?"

"We're still in the heart of New York." Bruce explained. The tinny humming of computers and occasional bleeps and bloops almost drowned out the quiet scientist's words. "I'm still a ticking time bomb."

"We have a contingency plan for that. Or did you forget about Lightfoot?"

"We haven't tested her. We haven't seen any evidence that she could do a thing for me." Tony sighed.

"You need to trust her." He said, looking Bruce square in the eyes. "I've seen what she can do. Thor can't even see through her cloak." Bruce couldn't respond, but he was still so uncertain.

"Why don't you pay her a visit before it gets too late. Do some team building exercises or something." And before Bruce could raise another complaint, Tony was around the corner and out the door. Apparently, he had other things to think about, like thinking about what Pepper was going to think when she found out he had turned her gala into a clandestine government assassin reunion.

* * *

The sun set on Amira for a third time where she sat.

Her bones popped and complained as she stretched. Her cuts were beginning to knit together and sky was clear. She ripped the sheets off of the window and forced herself to deal with her own reflection.

It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

Her eyes seemed to be blacker then ever, embedded deep in her skull on the soft hewn shelf of her cheeks. This was, no doubt, a result of her exhaustion and lack of sustenance. She had taken very little food since her confinement. Still, to her, she appeared to be wearing a mask – something was guarded in her eyes, where they rested beneath her heavy eyelids.

Maybe she would always look this way.

Despite the nightmares and the occasional nausea she still felt a small sense of pride. She had done right by her family and saw to tradition. She liked to think that her mother would be deeply proud of her for seeing it through. She didn't feel much better and she didn't feel God's warmth but her sense of duty was well satisfied. Perhaps now she could do something different; something for her.

With wet hands, fresh from the wash, she fluffed her hair – tried to make it look pretty, even. A loose fitting shirt was pulled on and a pair of comfortable jeans were stepped into. She hefted the small cask that Thor had gifted her. She grabbed a glass from the kitchenette and slammed the cabinet door shut.

She set her hand on the door handle, ready to leave her apartment. Before she could turn the handle she bit her lip and had an interesting notion. Without stopping to dwell on the silliness of what she was doing she bounded back to the cabinet and grabbed a second glass.

No reason. Just because. At least, that is what she told herself.

* * *

Amira turned to corner around the large maintenance boxes where the lawn chair and milk crate rested. She was inappropriately disappointed to find the chair quite empty. She huffed and set the cask down, none-too-gently and then did the same with her body. She decided quickly that she wouldn't explore those feelings that caused her to be so irked at the absence of a certain grumpy scientist. Feeling visceral embarrassment she pulled her hair and groaned.

"What's with the barrel?" She yelped and uncrossed her legs so clumsily that she almost rolled backward. She pressed a hand to her heart and glared at the source of the voice.

"You're up late." Bruce said.

"I could say the same to you." She couldn't cut the embarrassed anger out of her voice. "You scared the life out of me." He didn't try to conceal his smirk.

"Sorry." He chuckled. "How about a peace offering?" He held up a plastic bag. Her eyes flicked from his hesitant face to the bag and then back. At this point, she was playing at being put out. She was immensely happy that she wouldn't be alone.

"Perhaps." She said haughtily. The truth was that she was ravenous, but she would use the last of her energy reserves to make at attempt at flirting. "What restitution do you offer?"

"Does the offended party prefer pancakes or french toast." She bit her lip and let out an involuntary hum of anticipation. Both sounded divine but she was running out of cute banter so she decided quickly.

"French me up." She said, for a moment, reveling in how cool she was coming off. Bruce cocked his head, smiling incredulously. And then she screamed internally, loud enough to shake the stalactites loose in her head. She could feel magma-hot blood rush to her face. A series of stuttering half sounds tumbled out of her mouth.

"French toast. Please." She blurted. "I meant that I would- I prefer french toast." Bruce had the grace not to laugh at her but she still wasn't done babbling.

"French toast, me. Pancakes, you." She pointed for emphasis. There was a heavy silence between them.

"Just to clarify, you wanted the french toast?" Bruce began, teasing her openly now.  
"Ugh, leave me alone. My brain is tired." She laughed, raising her hands in surrender. Bruce made no apologies for his ribbing. Amira was glad. He approached and sat a safe distance from her. She could smell the contents of the takeout bag and it made her stomach lurch violently with want.

He handed her a styrofoam to-go box from the bag and a set of plastic silverware.

"It's a little unconventional." Bruce said, opening his own box. "But breakfast is my favorite food."

"Just all of breakfast, in general." Amira snickered and unashamedly sucked a bit of sticky, sweet syrup from the tip of her ring finger. He shrugged.

"Most people just pick one thing." She declared. "Not Bruce Banner, no. He claims _all_ of breakfast." Bruce was appraising her; he wore an easy smile but Amira could tell he wasn't just going to let her dog him like that. She took a big bite of french toast and almost cried. It was even sweeter with conversation. She dramatically hummed her pleasure.

"Nirvana." She drew the syllables out. It had been too long since she had french toast.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked. She nodded, her eyes closed and her mouth curved up in an uncensored smile. It was sincere. Bruce came through with some incredible breakfast goods.

" _Frenched up_?" He jabbed. She nodded and looked off in the distance.

"There it is." She said, jaded. He definitely didn't miss her little – well she didn't _want_ to call it a Freudian slip but a spade is a spade, after all. "I thought you were better than that, Banner."

"I don't know what gave you that impression." He murmured, spearing a pancake chunk. He was looking very typical tonight. Perpetually exhausted with charming floppy curls. His button down was an adventurous shade of gray.

She wouldn't change any of it. Not a thing.

They ate in companionable silence for awhile until Bruce pointed out her cask. He jabbed his fork in it's general direction.

"What's going on with that?" He raised his eyebrows at her. It's true it was a rather odd thing to lug around. She somewhat wished she had left it in her room. She wasn't certain she was ready to remember much of anything. She just wanted to live in the incredible french toast present.

"I don't know – I kind of brought it up on a whim." She crumpled up her napkin discarded it in her empty container. "Thor gave it to me." Dissatisfied with her answer, he didn't respond until she elaborated.

"As far as he explained it's some pretty incredible Asgardian booze."

"Ah."

"It's for mourning. Something you drink to remember the one you lost." Making up her mind, Amira tipped the cask over onto her leg and leveraged it there. The glasses clinked together as she scooped them up. She snorted.

"It's _magical_ , or so he says. I assume that he was taking artistic license." Bruce shook his head.

"Careful." He warned. "Asgardian 'magic' is very much real. They are millenniums ahead of us, technologically speaking." Amira chuckled and found the handle on the cask spout.

"Well, I don't know if you're caught up on the state of affairs, but global unrest is at our doorstep and it is knocking." She poured a couple of fingers of ale into her glass. "Considering all of this," she paused and studied the shimmering amber liquid in her glass, "I am going to drink the magic beverage and try not to consider the consequences." She smelled it and sighed with appreciation.

"Can I offer you a glass?"

"I'm going to pass." Bruce politely declined. Amira was disappointed but not upset. She felt the thrum of her cuff pick up pace.

"Fair enough." She swirled the sjaund in her glass and let it breathe. She wasn't certain if she was supposed to, it just seemed like something that someone who knew anything about alcohol would do. "So, you think the Abomination has everyone's nuclear launch codes or just ours?" She mused.

Bruce had been holding his breath. He blew it out all at once and looked very uncomfortable suddenly.

"Jesus." He said. He ran both hands down his face as another exhalation hissed through the cracks of his fingers. "You know what, I will have a glass actually." He looked wracked with anxiety now, but she was selfishly pleased. He scooted close to her. She could reach out and sweep the curls off of his forehead.

She poured him a share equal to hers. He tentatively took the cup from her. Their fingers brushed.

She knew her pulse jumped but so did his.

They both studied the liquid, flecked with minuscule particles, swirling like a molten gold galaxy in the bottom of their cups.

"Well." Bruce said, sounding uncertain. "Who do we toast to?" He knew who but he wanted her to say it.

"To Aaron." She said, pained but smiling. "I wish you were here."

This wasn't just a platitude. She could give anything to have him here, sampling Asgardian ale. Then again, if he were alive, the ale wouldn't be in her possession.

"To Aaron."

They clinked glasses.

"L'Chayim" Amira murmured sarcastically as she brought the glass to her lips. They both sipped, as Thor had advised.

"God, that's sweet." Amira breathed.

" _Very_ sweet." Bruce agreed.

"But good." She realized, shocked at the dimensions of taste the little sip carried. Her ears and throat burned pleasantly. She was suddenly so wonderfully warm and happy. She could smell something now, something so familiar. The warm aged interior of the classrooms and Professor Xavier's school. The bustling grounds, the hushed secrets shared in the dorms were all so alive. She felt it like she was experiencing it all over.

"Whoa." Bruce shakily intoned. "That's different."

Amira could only laugh because she recalled with such clarity what Aaron looked like with braces. She could remember where the sun was in the sky when she and Aaron were accepted into the S.H.I.E.L.D. training program; how strong and _alive_ he was when they embraced joyfully.

She looked at Bruce with astonishment but he wasn't laughing like her. He was staring pensively into space and rubbing his chin, apparently grappling with the intense reminiscence. She twisted her mouth into a mischievous smirk.

"I know I couldn't possibly say anything more predictable but-" He looked up when she tapped his leg with the back of her hand. "Do you remember the first time we talked? On the balcony?" She shook her head giggled. "You were so cranky!" He looked unsure, afraid. She urged him on with a wide eyed look.

"Cranky is my modus operandi." He said, smiling at his drink. "At least I wasn't as _awkward_ as you were."

" _God_ , you're right." She snorted. "I wish I didn't remember that."

"No, it was- it was good." He worried his hands. "You were funny."

"But you were so mad at me! You were like-" She clapped a hand over her mouth. _Now_ she was feeling tipsy as well as bewitched. There was absolutely no stopping Amira saying what she was thinking now.

"Like what?" Bruce asked. He too had somewhat succumbed to the drink. His eyelids were heavy and half-mast.

"You were like an angry, sexy professor." She confessed. As soon as she said it, she knew she may have crossed a lined. Thankfully, the hazy bliss prevented her from feeling any shame...yet. She studied Bruce's reaction, trying to keep a confident 'I dare you' look on her face. Bruce pondered something and toyed with his bottom lip – it was his tic, she noted. It made her itch with anticipation. She started to feel hot with humiliation.

"I remember," Bruce began, he finally met her gaze. The muscles of his jaw flexed once. She was sitting on her feet, leaning forward absolutely rapt. "I remember that the run in your stockings ran all the way up to your hem."

She didn't know what it meant exactly, but it made her burn with something ephemeral. He said it in such a way as to make it indecipherable yet urging. A booze-fueled Amira was not one to turn her nose up at opportunity. A booze-fueled Amira didn't even know the meaning of the word regret.

She leaned forward, hands planted on the ground on either side of Bruce Banner, and pressed her lips against his. It was only for a moment. It had been barely a second before she pulled back, waiting with baited breath to gauge his reaction. She licked her lips reflexively. She hoped he didn't notice. The sweetness of his lips made her dizzy. His eyes were boring into hers. She was prepared for an admonishment. She wouldn't even mind. At least she would know _something_ for certain.

"You-" He stuttered.

"Yes." She admitted. "Yes, I did." _And it felt great._

Bruce surprised her by leaning in. He watched her mouth with intent as he closed in, as if it were an object of scientific interest. Gingerly, he brushed his lips against hers. She could feel his pulse now on her wrist, it was practically stinging. Both of his hands crept up to cradle her cheeks. Amira pressed into his timid kiss to taste him again. He was warm against her but unsure.

It was a chaste exploration and it didn't last. They slowly broke apart, neither of them knowing what to say. Amira couldn't even form complete thoughts. Bruce was still so close to her. She could smell him and whatever incredible detergent he used.

Pieces of a memory, like shards of glass pieced themselves together. It was Aaron, lecturing Amira over questionable mess hall fare.

" _You gotta keep the upper hand. Shock and awe, Amira. Blitzkrieg. Make sure the only thing they think about for the rest of the week is you. Amira? Are you listening…?"_

She never thought Aaron's romantic advice would ever apply to her but she praised the Nordic deities that the sjaund helped her remember that snippet.

She leaned in again, this time to send a message.

"See you tomorrow, Bruce." Amira whispered in his ear. He shivered. She pressed a kiss into his cheek, reveling in the slight scratch of his stubble against her.

"Good night." He said. It was almost a question. Amira like to imagine it was almost a plea for her to stay. She collected her cask and her glass. She made sure to offer him one more foxy smile before turning to leave.

Aaron was right. Bruce looked puzzled, devastated, and desperate all in one. It seemed the right reaction, that much was certain.

It took all of her concentration and skill to make sure she departed gracefully – sensuously, even.

"Shock and awe." She murmured to herself as she left.

* * *

There Bruce sat, doing the math over and over again in his head. He burned where she touched him. He could still feel it on his cheek.

It was stupid, he knew it was incredibly stupid.

It was also thrilling. Galvanizing.

He was so used to wallowing in the past that living in the present for even those few seconds had the effect of a lightning bolt on his soul. He kicked himself for being so timid. He double kicked himself for letting her go.

" _See you tomorrow, Bruce._ " And he hoped he did see her too. How could he even dream of sleeping?

He would think of nothing else but that run in her stockings. Not for the first time, he wondered just how far up that run went.

* * *

 **This was hard and weird to write. Up until now there was just sort of a tense cordiality between these two. I'll definitely be back to fiddle with this.**


End file.
